


you could never publish my love

by benigns



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Angst, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 47,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7567330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benigns/pseuds/benigns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I don’t want to keep you any longer,” Steve says, “but, Mr. Barnes?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Bucky turns where he’s standing in front of the door, hand still on the handle. “Yes, sir?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You can ask me questions too, you know.” Steve’s voice is quieter now, still looking at Bucky from the kitchen. “Just not the codes to the nukes, and whatnot.”</i>
</p><p><i>Bucky can see a softness on Steve’s face, unsure of how else to read it. “I’ll remember that,” he says, meaning it.</i><br/>or, alternatively, an au where steve rogers is the president of the united states, and james buchanan 'bucky' barnes is his body guard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you could never publish my love

**Author's Note:**

> warning: this fic contains a bit of detailed violence, along with mentions of panic attacks reoccurring throughout the fic.  
>  
> 
> PART ONE IS DONE. IT'S FINALLY, REALLY, DONE. 
> 
> this is my first fic in the marvel universe and i'm mildly terrified about posting it. but this entire thing wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the light of my entire life, amy, for yelling at me to write it. for also holding my hand through this whole doc, even when i'd write five words and ask her for her help and pick her brain for hours on end. this is for you, i love you the most.
> 
> also to leighanne my partner in crime always, for beta-ing and putting up with me like she generally does every day. i love love love you.
> 
> also to kaylee for reading and telling me how not terrible this is, you're the sweetest and the kindest and i truly do not deserve you.
> 
> ALSO A LARGE ROUND OF APPLAUSE AND KISSES OF GRATITUDE TO: natasha, emma, amber, brittney, minnah, effy, and sarah for being my cheerleading squad and helping me out whenever i begged for it. you're the real mvp's.
> 
> i hope you all like it.

Bucky wakes up in a sweat despite the cold, Brooklyn morning air with Lincoln, his dog, spread out over him, panting loudly in his ear. It takes a few minutes for Bucky’s breathing to slow down and remember he's in his bed, he's safe, and everything's fine. He closes his eyes, leaning his head back, and reminds himself to breathe. 

4:07 am, and he feels like shit. 

Lincoln stays with him until Bucky gets up from his bed, pushing off the covers and padding his way into the kitchen. He braces his elbows against the counter, rubbing the heels of his eyes into his eyes, trying to wake himself up. Mornings are usually like this; long and drawn out so that he's settled into this exhaustion where he can't even sleep he's so tired, turning on the coffee maker. 

He manages to eat half of a bagel, leaving the rest on the counter as he goes to get Lincoln’s leash. It's a little after five when they leave his shitty little apartment above a tiny art gallery downtown, hardly anyone around as they step out onto the sidewalk and he puts on his winter coat. That's one of the perks of being awake before everyone else in this goddamn city, it almost feels peaceful then. 

There are a few other people walking their dogs at the small park he usually goes to, sitting on a bench and seeing the sun start to come through the trees. Brooklyn might be a shit hole, but Bucky considers it to be _his_ shit hole, so. 

A few people walk past him as he pulls the sleeve of his jacket down, over his arm. He doesn't say anything, and only one of them actually looks over at him and smiles. 

He’s on his way home when his phone goes off, seeing a familiar name flash across the screen. He answers, “Shouldn't you be asleep?”

“Sleeping’s a waste of time, Barnes, you know this,” Natasha tells him on the other line. Bucky smiles despite himself. “Besides, shouldn't you be the one sleeping since you're unemployed?”

“Not unemployed, just recovering,” Bucky corrects, with Lincoln walking alongside him. 

“I want you to come here, to DC,” she says after a few moments of silence. 

Bucky sighs. He should've seen this coming; he knows better. “What, you and Clint miss me that bad?”

“There's a job here I think you should take,” she says, all business now. 

“What kind of job?” Bucky asks, shushing Lincoln as she barks at another dog across the street.

“My old job.”

Bucky pauses, briefly considering. His first answer is, “No fucking way.”

“You're the only one I trust with this job besides me, you know that,” she says.

“Absolutely not,” Bucky answers a second time. 

“Just. Come here, alright? We can talk details then,” Natasha urges. 

“Natasha,” Bucky sighs quietly, but he can already hear it in his voice. So can she, by the sounds of it.

“Flight’s on me?” she suggests, as if she doesn’t already know he’s going to say yes.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Bucky says before hanging up. He's not getting out of this one.

-

The flight there feels longer than it actually is. It's been awhile since he's gone anywhere, checking his bag and waiting around at his gate, drinking shitty airport coffee. Everything feels different, bigger, if that were possible. He feels out of place, boarding his plane. 

He sits beside an older lady, apparently going to DC on business. She's a book publisher who talks enough for the two of them so Bucky can hardly getting a word in, which he's silently grateful for. 

He can feel the tension tight in his chest when they take off, gripping his arm rest and exhaling slowly. 

“What's that, then?” the lady beside him asks once they’re in the air. 

Bucky pauses, following her gaze on his arm. He clears his throat, pressing his lips together before he answers, “Had a little accident.”

“Maybe a bit more than a little one,” she says, clearly not shying away from the topic, which surprises him. 

“Was on my third tour, in Afghanistan,” he starts, not moving his hand where the metal can clearly be seen. “And we - ran into some trouble.”

She hums, nodding. “My father served,” she says. 

Bucky looks at her for a moment, seeing the downward turn of her lips. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

She blinks, giving him a small smile, and reaches over to gently grip his arm, briefly, before turning back to her laptop. 

-

Clint’s waiting for him at the arrivals gate, wearing his usual sunglasses and a faded leather jacket. Some things never change, Bucky thinks to himself with mild amusement. 

“Nat got you doing her errands now?” Bucky asks, being pulled into a hug. 

“Yeah, because you're so much fucking work,” Clint says, clapping his back. “How was the flight?”

Bucky shrugs, holding his bag in one hand, “Fine, you know. Uneventful.”

“The most boring kind,” Clint says, leading him out to the parking lot. “Wanna get the fuck out of this over crowded airport?”

Bucky shakes his head, “You read my mind, Barton.”

Clint snorts, getting into the driver’s side. “Probably right about that,” he says, pulling out of the parking lot once Bucky’s beside him in the passenger’s seat.

He doesn’t mention the job to Bucky the entire drive back to his and Natasha’s house. He mostly asks what Bucky’s been up to, how his apartment is in Brooklyn. The standard questions that come when he visits, not that Bucky really has any different answers, but Clint doesn’t seem to mind.

They live in a nice house, the door painted bright red as Clint pulls into the driveway. It’s a little after six, Natasha’s other car parked a little ahead of them as Bucky gets out. Clint gets his bag from the back asking, “Where’s Lincoln?”

“Staying with a friend of mine,” Bucky answers, “figured I wasn’t going to be out here long.”

Clint gives him a knowing look, raising an eyebrow as he puts an arm over Bucky’s shoulder and they walk up toward the door. “Wouldn’t you like to think that, Barnes,” he tells him, before opening the front door.

It looks the same, as it always does, that never changes. Bucky feels something settle in him when he gets through the door.

Clint nearly yells, “Honey, I’m home!”

There’s a pause before he hears Natasha’s voice, “Shut up, you’re going to scare our guest.”

Clint smirks, leaving Bucky’s bag on a couch in their living room, rounding a corner. Bucky takes a minute to get his shoes, kicking them off onto the small mat. He can hear them talking, voices hushed, but he knows better than to think they’re not talking about him.

“Nice to see you too,” Bucky says, leaning against the doorway into the kitchen.

Natasha looks up where she’s standing over a pot on the stove, Clint pressed against her side with a hand on her waist, smiling over at him. She makes her way over to Bucky, immediately pulling him close to her, her grip tight and familiar, even after months of not seeing her.

It’s like coming home, seeing her in the kitchen. With her hair loosely pulled back, lips stained a deep shade of red, wearing tights and one of Clint’s overly large sweatshirts; how Bucky always pictures her. They’re the closest thing Bucky has to something like a family, and he’s always reminded of that whenever he sees them.

“Always know how to make an entrance,” she mumbles before stepping back, getting a better look at him and adding, “you look like shit, Barnes.”

“I’ve missed you, have I said that yet?” Bucky says, ignoring Natasha’s concerned look. He sighs, voice lower when he adds, “I’m fine, Nat.”

“He’s always been a terrible fucking liar,” Clint chimes in, stirring whatever it is that’s steaming over the stove.

“Brooklyn’s too far to keep an eye on you,” Natasha says, giving Bucky a pointed look. 

“So you invited me here to tell me how awful I look?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Natasha bites back. 

Clint’s starting to set the table, but Bucky doesn’t move, his shoulder still pressed against the doorway as he sighs. 

“You’re still in the second room on the left,” Natasha directs, nodding to the stairwell. “Dinner won’t be ready for a few more minutes.”

He knows better than to stand around and argue with her, moving to get his bag from the couch as he makes his way upstairs. Clint’s saying something when Bucky opens the door, seeing the usual bed in the far corner of the room. 

Bucky puts his bag down, sitting on the edge of the bed. Their voices are still carrying, but he doesn’t have the energy to try and figure out what they’re saying about him, leaning back onto the mattress. He knows they mean well, they always do - taking care of Bucky when he can’t do it himself. 

He goes into the small bathroom off his room, splashing some cold water onto his face and bracing both his hands against the counter, looking at himself in the mirror. He’s tired; Nat was right, he does look like shit. 

He can only sleep for a couple of hours at a time before waking up from some kind of nightmare, sheets sticking to him and breathing rapidly, needing to remind himself he’s safe, he’s in his apartment, and everything is fine. There hasn’t been a week where this hasn’t happened, and Bucky can count on one hand the amount of times he’s slept through the entire night without waking up at some ungodly hour, shaking in his bed.

But he isn’t going to tell her she’s right, that would be too easy.

“If you’re done, you know, doing your thing,” Clint’s voice comes from a few feet behind him, “dinner’s ready.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, making his way back down to the kitchen. Natasha’s pouring some wine, red, which is when she’s especially stressed out - looking over at Bucky as he sits down.

“How was your flight?” Natasha asks, putting some salad onto her plate before passing the bowl to Bucky.

He shakes his head, laughing quietly. “That’s what you want to talk about right now? My flight?”

Clint’s quiet from his seat, noticeably trying not to laugh. Natasha shoots him a look before she says, “I figured you didn’t want to get into it right away, is all.”

“My flight was fine,” Bucky answers, “now you can tell me what you really want to talk about.”

“You gotta give it to him, he’s very direct,” Clint comments, smirking.

Natasha ignores him. “You have an interview tomorrow, at nine in the morning.”

Bucky groans, rubbing a hand along his face. He’s no longer hungry, so he doesn’t put any food on his plate, leaning his elbows against the table. “And you didn’t feel like asking if I was alright with this before I got here?”

“Would you have been alright with it?” Natasha asks. Bucky shakes his head. “Then there’s your answer. I did it because I knew you wouldn’t, had you been given a chance.”

“I don’t have a chance anymore, do I?” Bucky says, seeing her frown.

“You don’t have to go,” Natasha says, moving a bit of salad around on her plate.

“Yeah, right,” Bucky says flatly. “Why do you want me to go so badly?”

“I just think the job would be a good fit for you,” Natasha says simply.

“I’d have to move to Washington,” Bucky points out.

“It’s not that bad, don’t be dramatic,” Clint says, still smirking where he’s looking at Bucky across the table.

“We’ll get you to the interview, it’ll be fine,” Natasha reassures him, and apparently all other discussion on the subject is now closed. 

Bucky begrudgingly gets himself some dinner, bracing himself silently for tomorrow. They finish eating without too much more bickering, Bucky helping take some dishes to the sink before being rebuffed to the porch at the back, Natasha telling him he needs to make sure he’s ready for tomorrow.

He steps out the screen door, a glass of half finished wine in his hand, staring out in the dim light coming from inside. It’s a few more minutes until Natasha joins him, the sound of the door opening and closing as she comes to stand beside him.

“You know, there’s better things to do with your time than spending it worrying about me,” Bucky says, breaking the silence.

He can see Natasha smile from the corner of his eye, pressing her lips together for a few moments. “You can’t stay locked up in that apartment in Brooklyn forever,” she says, and he knows she’s right.

“I could be shit at this job,” Bucky says, tipping back some wine into his mouth. 

“No, Clint would be shit at this job,” Natasha says, and Bucky hums in agreement. “You know he would be.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that, he’d be crushed,” Bucky says, smiling against the rim of his glass.

Natasha reaches out, curling her hand around his. Bucky feels the warmth of her touch, keeping his gaze ahead and sighs, knowing she’s won. It can’t be so bad, he tells himself, like a mantra in his head.

“I’m not doing this to torture you, you know,” Natasha says. She’s doing it for the opposite reason.

“I know,” Bucky says, and they leave it at that.

-

Bucky regrets ever saying yes when it’s six thirty in the fucking morning and Clint’s pounding on his door to wake up. 

“Fuck off,” Bucky barks, pulling his sheets over his head.

“Get the fuck out of bed, Barnes,” Clint says back, “we’re leaving in half an hour.”

He gets up, if only because he knows if he doesn’t things will not end well, putting on the suit Natasha laid out for him, pushing down his nerves as he makes his way downstairs. Natasha fusses with him in the front hall for a few minutes, fixing his tie and muttering under her breath the entire time.

She’s nervous, but then again so is he, which sort of balances them out. Clint’s already in the car, saying the two of them are going to take Bucky for some food before his interview. 

“You think they’re not going to hire me if my tie’s a little crooked?” Bucky asks.

“Get in the car, Barnes,” Natasha tells him, not in the mood for his shit when she nearly pushes him out the door.

The breakfast place is just outside the city, a pancake house a little up the road from a gas station. It’s small, but Bucky assumes that’s part of it appeal, following them to an open booth near the windows. 

Their waitress comes by a short while later, taking their orders. Bucky isn’t quite in the mood for eating, but he assumes that if he told either of them this he would be forced to eat anyway, so he instead gets blueberry pancakes to avoid any sort of fight on the subject.

They eat in mostly silence, and none of them seem to mind, settled into the comfort of it. It’s kind of nice, though, having them around. He doesn’t have all that many friends in Brooklyn - and Bucky can safely say that none of them have actively tried to get him a job, or get him out of his shitty little apartment.

Clint pays the bill, despite Bucky’s very vocal protests, as they make their way back to the car. By the time they’re back on the highway Bucky can feel the nerves really start to settle in, continually pulling the sleeve of his suit jacket over his arm.

“You don’t have to hide it, you know,” Natasha tells him, her voice quieter.

Bucky doesn’t say anything, looking out the window, and the subject doesn’t get pushed any further. 

The security is more than Bucky’s seen in a long time, but that’s expected, considering who he’d be working for if he got the job. 

“It’s just a glorified babysitting gig,” Clint mutters to him. Natasha elbows his side, as Bucky holds back a grin.

“I think that was in the job description, actually,” Bucky says, getting an elbow in his side from Natasha as well.

“Remember what we talked about, alright?” Natasha says, focusing on Bucky. “No jokes, no playing around. This is serious, Barnes. They only let me recommend one person to take over my position, and I already told them you’re a big fucking deal.”

“I know,” Bucky tells her, equally as serious. “I’m not going to fuck this up, Nat.”

“That’s what you said on the last mission you went on, you know,” Natasha says. 

Something inside Bucky aches when she says it, nodding slowly. “This is different, though. I’ll just be in the next room, not across the world.”

She fixes the collar of his shirt, before putting a gentle hand on his chest. “Go on, then,” she says, her voice wavering just slightly.

“Should I ask them who the current president is? Or will they not get the joke,” Bucky asks, and she laughs in response. “Thanks, Nat. For this.”

Bucky leans over, pressing a kiss to her cheek before being led off down the hall. He glances back one more time, seeing her and Clint watching him as he’s taken to what looks like an office. _Director of Security, Phil Coulson_ is what the plaque reads beside the door, a name Bucky’s never heard before. 

“You must be James,” a man, presumably Phil Coulson, says when he opens the door. Bucky’s not used to anyone calling him by his first name. He reaches out a hand, shaking Bucky’s with it. “My name is Phil Coulson.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Bucky says, letting go of his hand.

“You’re the only person Natasha could think of for a recommendation. We’ve all been very excited to meet you. Please, come in.”

No pressure, Bucky thinks, stepping into the office slowly. He sits in the chair in front of Phil’s desk, remembering what Nat told him about keeping his answers short, and to the point. 

“So, let’s start this off by asking if you’re aware of what this job entails?” Phil’s got his hands crossed over his desk, watching Bucky.

Bucky swallows, leaning back. “Well I’d say almost everything,” he answers, immediately kicking himself after the words leaves his mouth. “Natasha’s given me a rundown that wasn’t at all brief, so I’d say I’m adequately filled in.”

Phil smiles, which Bucky isn’t sure how to read. “You’ll be working evenings, weekends, holidays. Around the clock, whenever you’re needed. Where the president goes, you won’t be far behind. You’re gonna be like an invisible limb, understand?”

His voice is calm and even, to Bucky’s surprise, as he nods. “Yes, sir. I’m aware of the job description.”

Phil seems satisfied with that answer, moving on. “You’ve got a lot of experience we’ve been looking for, going through your file.”

Bucky wants to ask what file, but doesn’t. Phil continues, “Do you think you’ll be ready to go out into this job? It’s very demanding, Mr. Barnes.”

“I’ve been off duty for almost a year and a half, sir. I think it’s time for me to go out there and do something,” Bucky answers.

“In a few short months he’ll be entering his last year in his second term, so you’ll be there for that. It’s one full year, which you’ll be committing to up front,” Coulson says.

Bucky doesn’t have to think twice before he answers, “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“President Rogers can be a bit of a - handful,” Coulson starts, rubbing one side of his temple. “Just in case your job itself isn’t enough as it is.”

Bucky shrugs, shifting a little in his seat. “I’m sure I’m up to the challenge, sir,” he answers easily.

Phil looks amused by this, of all things. “I’m going to be straight up with you, Mr. Barnes,” he starts, and Bucky braces himself. Five minutes in this office and he’s already fucked up the interview. “The replacement we’ve found to temporarily replace Ms. Romanoff is … not quite up the challenge, as you phrased it. So we need someone to take their place right away. Would be able to do that?”

So, he didn’t fuck up the interview. “I’d have to move from Brooklyn, but -”

“Perfect. Then it’s settled,” Coulson cuts him off, apparently satisfied with that answer. “We’ll see you in a week, Mr. Barnes.”

He’s a little stunned, leaving Coulson’s office. As if unsure if the entire thing had been some sort of elaborate joke, standing outside the door. But no one’s telling him otherwise, so it seems like he’s somehow gotten the job, simply by saying less than fifty words.

He’s fucked, then.

-

The move is stressful, to say the least. Lincoln is not on board with the entire thing and quite frankly, Bucky doesn’t blame her. 

He doesn’t have a lot of stuff, thankfully, loading it all into a tiny, cramped moving truck he rented the day after he’d gotten home. There’s random words written on them _some plates_ , _blankets and towels_ , _books and shit_ , _movies and shit_ , which he tossed haphazardly into the truck, not bothering to try and organize it. 

Natasha’s been texting him constantly, with updates and questions. She found him an apartment near work, right downtown and claims there’s a coffee shop across from it that he would, quote-unquote, “absolutely love.”

Bucky isn’t sure how he feels, saying goodbye to Brooklyn. He’s barely got enough time to get all his shit together, let alone take one last trip around and say a final sort of goodbye for now. Not that he had anywhere he’d gone to recently, mostly staying locked up in his apartment and going out to whatever shitty bar his friends forced him to go to.

Lincoln walks with him through the tiny apartment one last time, nudging Bucky’s leg as she stands in the middle of what used to be his bedroom, with the useful second function of also acting as his living room. According to Natasha his new apartment has rooms that don’t have two uses to them, which Bucky isn’t sure how he feels about. Might be a little too high-end for his tastes.

“Ready to go, then?” Bucky asks, kneeling in front of Lincoln. She nuzzles Bucky’s hand silently, letting out a soft, sad sort of whimper as Bucky kisses the top of her head. “It’s only a six hour drive,” he reminds Lincoln, though mostly he’s doing it for himself, “we’ll be back.”

They both make their way down to the truck, Bucky closing the door to the building one last, final time, opening the front door for Lincoln to jump up onto the seat. He isn’t leaving that much behind, Bucky reminds himself as he pulls out onto the freeway. He didn’t build that much of a life for himself once he’d gotten back, he thinks, looking in the rearview mirror and turning up the radio. 

-

Bucky’s neighbor's name is Scott Lang, and he learns this on the unfortunate morning he’s running late on his first day and nearly falling out his door, when he sees someone in the hallway.

He hasn’t had coffee and his head is pounding, Lincoln barking for him as soon as he steps out the door. Bucky doesn’t have time for this, seeing a man with his head outside his door looking over at him curiously.

“So you’re the new neighbor?” he asks.

“Yes,” Bucky answers, fumbling for his keys to lock the door. “And I’m late for my first day on the job.”

His new neighbor is not getting the hint. “What’s your name? I’m Scott Lang, nice to meet you.”

Bucky does not have time for this. “Bucky,” he answers, nearly dropping an entire armful of papers. “I should really be going -”

“You have a dog?” Scott asks, and Bucky wonders how the fuck someone can be so chatty before eight in the morning. “Could hear him, this morning.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. She isn’t settling in as quickly as I would’ve hoped,” Bucky answers, finally managing to get his door locked.

“No problem,” Scott says, waving a hand. “Do you work close by?”

Bucky blinks, knowing he’s already five minutes late. “You could say that,” he says.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Scott says, and Bucky holds back a sigh of relief when he closes his door.

He finds his useless fucking car in the parking lot, having purchased it a few nights ago, driving out to nowhere Bucky’s been before with Clint, paying some guy he’s never met far more than this car is worth. He doesn’t think about it right now, opening the door and smelling the dollar store air freshener Clint had insisted he put in so Bucky can feel like he’s driving a fucking BMW or some shit.

He’s late. He’s so fucking late, peeling out of the parking lot and taking a bite of a granola bar he’d managed to grab on his way out, his phone mapping out the route for him. He swears at some asshole who cuts him off, the sunlight hot through the windshield. The AC is broken, because of course it is, as he begrudgingly rolls down his window in an attempt to get some sort of airflow before he passes out.

Clint texts, _Where the fuck are you?_ and Bucky doesn’t respond. 

By the time he gets there he’s got about two minutes to spare, nearly ripping off his car door as he makes his way inside. He briefly wonders if they have coffee here, if he doesn’t get fired for almost being late his first day. 

_here. dying. need coffee._ Bucky texts Clint, only mildly frantic, putting his phone back into his pocket. 

He flashes his badge, the man nodding to him as Bucky tries to lessen the panic in his chest. He has no fucking clue where he’s going, when he hears his name.

“Mr. Barnes, glad I caught you,” Coulson’s voice comes from down the hall. “Ready for your first day?”

Bucky opens his mouth to begin the apologies, but Coulson doesn’t seem upset, handing him a to-go cup, hopefully with coffee in it. Bucky might cry. 

“I think so,” Bucky says, feeling the warmth of the cup against his hand, like some sort of lifeline. His phone buzzes, presumably with a reply from Clint. 

“I’m not going to be around much today but I am taking you to meet the head of our security team, Thor,” Coulson starts. “Do you need anything before you start, Mr. Barnes?”

“Bucky’s fine,” Bucky says, and Coulson nods, smiling in response. 

The entire walk Bucky wonders if Thor is his given name or a nick name, finding it a nice distraction from freaking the fuck out on his first day and going through all the many, varied scenarios of how he could severely fuck up. 

Everyone’s watching him and Coulson walk by, Bucky trying to ignore their hushed voices. He takes a sip of the coffee Coulson gave him, trying not to make a face. It’s watered down, and has no resemblance to coffee whatsoever, but he assumes it has caffeine in it, at any rate. 

Coulson’s pointing out random rooms as he goes and Bucky doesn’t have enough time to make any mental notes of any of them, stalking behind him as he best he can. 

“If you have any questions, I’ll be in my office,” Coulson concludes his sporadic tour, seeming very confident in the fact that Bucky doesn’t have a single clue where anything is. “Thor’s just down the hall, briefing a room of reporters.”

Reporters, Bucky thinks blankly; an entire room of them. He’s not fucking ready for this job, or this life. “Sure, I’ll just - go find him, then,” he says, motioning awkwardly down the hall.

“You’ll do fine, Bucky,” Coulson reassures him, though Bucky doesn’t feel the least bit assured.

When Coulson rounds the corner he immediately tosses his barely touched cup of coffee, checking his phone. _Don’t drink the coffee Coulson gives you, whatever you do_. Bucky sends back a skull emoji and a _too late_ behind it.

Clint replies with a slightly sympathetic, _It was nice knowing you, man_ , before Bucky goes toward the door Coulson had vaguely motioned to. He sends one last text to Nat, asking, _is his name really thor?_

She responds almost instantly, _Yes, and don’t mock him for it, he really hates that._

Bucky makes a face, and he’s about to knock on the door before it swings open, catching him by surprise. He’s face to face with probably the biggest man Bucky’s ever seen, with long blonde hair and an excited sort of grin on his face. He’s like, three of Bucky put together into one person, he thinks in shock.

“You must be the new guy,” Large Blonde Haired guy says, sticking out a hand for Bucky to shake. “I’m Thor.”

So. This is Thor, Bucky thinks, having to tilt his head up to get a good look at him. Instead of saying the first phrase that comes to mind, holy fuck you’re huge, he opts for, “Bucky. Nice to meet you. Is everything - under control in there?”

“Just reporters, nothing new,” Thor says, shrugging. “I thought your name was James?”

“Prefer Bucky,” he answers simply, and Thor nods in response. 

“President Rogers is in a meeting right now, has been all morning,” Thor starts in right away, motioning to another room. 

Bucky’s going to have to find some way to adjust to hearing the word President in just about every sentence spoken to him now. 

They’ve got a bit of time before his meeting is out, Thor tells him, apparently leaving someone in the room so he can show Bucky around a bit. It’s mostly still a bunch of rooms Bucky knows he won’t remember, feeling out of place the entire time.

Thor gives Bucky an earpiece he’s supposed to wear at all times, along with a walkie, saying that those shouldn’t be turned off even for a second, for whatever reason. When he’s here, they’re on and Bucky’s wearing them.

“We’ve just got to meet Rhodey, he’s the secretary of defense. He’s the one to get you setup with your equipment,” Thor says, and Bucky nods in response.

Rhodey’s talking to a handful of people when Bucky and Thor get to him, turning to look over at them. He pauses, squinting before walking over. “You must be the new security for President Rogers,” he says, shaking Bucky’s hand. 

“You can call me Bucky,” he says. Rhodey nods, smiling in clear amusement. 

“You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, do you?” Rhodey asks, clasping Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky pauses, Thor laughing beside him. “I wouldn’t say I’m completely sure, no.”

“You’ll get the hang of it. Thor warn you about our dear President yet?” Rhodey asks, raising a knowing eyebrow.

“Haven’t had the time. Was going to do that after you two met,” Thor says.

Rhodey smirks, not saying anything else. He gives Bucky his badge, and the firearm is to be placed under his jacket. He’s also given a list of codes, along with the strict instructions not to leave the White House until President Rogers is in his sleeping quarters and Bucky’s replacement is there to watch him for the rest of the night.

“It’s a lot of information, I know,” Rhodey says, “but you’ll get the hang of it.”

Bucky isn’t so sure, adjusting the piece around his waist. They’re making their way back to the meeting room, when there’s a voice down the hall, “Thor! I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Christ.”

“Mr. Stark,” Thor starts, grinning. “Everything alright?”

“Just some minor, life threatening situations, but what can you do,” the man starts, giving Bucky a confused look. “Who’s this?”

“New security for President Rogers in replace of Romanoff,” Thor says. “Bucky, this is Tony Stark, Secretary of State, and only minorly annoying.”

“I love it when you sweet talk me Thor,” Tony says, nodding toward Bucky. “The silent brooding type I see,” he adds.

Bucky nods, not saying anything on Tony’s comment because he has a point. Thor says, “Wilson was looking for you this morning, said he had some urgent things to discuss with you.”

“With Sam it’s always some big thing, you know that. He’s your typical Drama Queen, it’s nothing that big,” Tony says, clearly not bothered. “Is President Rogers still in that meeting?”

“Yes,” Thor answers.

Tony frowns. “He’s not going to be in a good mood after it, is he.”

Thor nods, giving a silent answer. Bucky feels lost, needing someone to translate the conversation going on right in front of him. 

“I’ll - find him later on, then, to talk about some things,” Tony says. “Just some low profile, only slightly life threatening, though so I wouldn’t worry too much. Is that intern still getting our coffee? It’s not even noon, I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

“He should be back soon,” Thor says. Tony clicks his tongue, looking doubtful in what looks to be an expensive suit Bucky could never even hope to afford, rocking back on his feet impatiently. 

“Send the President my way when he gets a chance, alright?” Tony says, walking away from them and taking out his cell phone, “I mean it, Thor, don’t let him get distracted.”

“I can’t control him, Mr. Stark, you know that,” Thor says, lifting his hands in surrender.

“What’s the point in being so damn big if you can’t get people to do everything you want them to?” Tony asks, disappearing around a corner.

When Bucky looks over at Thor, he’s still grinning. “See? Getting the hang of it already,” he says, and Bucky has no fucking idea what that means. 

“President Rogers should be out within the hour,” Thor starts, taking Bucky into his own office. They’re not even two steps in when there’s a knock on the door. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Thor, I’m sorry to burst in like this -”

“You can just call me Thor, Peter. I told you it’s fine,” Thor says, not looking up from his desk. 

Bucky glances over to see a tall, lanky kid with dark hair, holding three trays of filled with Starbucks cups nearly trip into the carpet. “Right. Sorry, Thor,” he corrects himself, “I brought you your coffee and bagel,” he adds, sounding nervous.

“Tony was looking for you,” Thor says, taking a cup from one of the tray’s. “Peter, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is one of our interns, Peter Parker.”

“I didn’t get you a coffee, no one told me you were going to be here,” Peter blurts out, eyes wide. “You can have mine, though, if you’d like -”

“That’s not necessary,” Bucky tells him, feeling like he’s dying on the inside. He hasn’t had coffee all morning; on probably the most important day in his entire life to have coffee, there’s none to be found. 

“I’ll bring you some tomorrow,” Peter promises. “Anything in particular you like?”

“An americano, black,” Bucky says. Peter nods, but doesn’t write it down.

“It was nice meeting you, Bucky, uh - sir,” Peter says, taking a slow step backward. 

“You too, Peter,” Bucky says before he’s gone, the door closing behind him.

“He’s harmless. Clint took him on a few weeks back, to try and lighten his load,” Thor says, taking a bite of his bagel. “I wouldn’t count on him bringing you anything you ever ask for, though. He can’t remember any of our orders.”

“Sounds promising,” Bucky says flatly.

Thor laughs, putting down his cup and handing Bucky a handbook for him to go through this week, apparently. He’s just started explaining it when there’s another knock on the door, and before Thor has a moment to tell them to come in, it opens.

“Stark’s gotten some kind of virus on my computer, so it can’t do shit right now and all the IT guys are too busy to help my sorry ass in getting this proposal finished,” the person starts, bursting into the room. Thor leans back against his desk, crossing his arms and not looking all that interested. “And Peter brought me something that definitely is not a caramel macchiato with an extra shot, I think he’s trying to poison me.” He glances between Thor and Bucky before adding, “who the fuck is this?”

“Bucky, this is Sam Wilson, our Vice President. He is, probably, the most annoying person you’ll meet today.”

Sam makes a face, before looking back to Bucky. “You the new security guy?” Bucky nods. “Well good luck to you, then. The President isn’t in the most charming of his moods today.”

“Meeting not going well?” Thor asks.

“It’s like he’s talking to a brick wall or something in there, no one wants to hear anything he has to say,” Sam says. “He’s got about ten minutes left, if they can all settle on some kind of agreement.”

Bucky has the same feeling that he needs an interpreter again, feeling lost as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“We’ll go wait outside for him,” Thor says. “I’ll call someone to go fix your computer, right?”

“Thank fuck,” Sam says, walking back toward the door. “Have fun surviving your first day!” he calls to Bucky over his shoulder before he goes.

“Is it always like this?” Bucky asks, leaving the handbook tucked under his arm.

“More or less,” Thor says, winking at him as they walk back out into the hallway. 

The famed ten minutes Sam had promised for this meeting to end wind up being an hour before the door finally opens, a very tired looking man emerging from it. His sleeves are rolled up, tie no longer around his neck but held in his hand, a few buttons on his shirt undone. Bucky pauses, watching him rub his temples before looking up and seeing him and Thor a few feet away. 

“Busy morning, sir?” Thor asks. 

He nods, forcing a small smile. “That meeting was supposed to be an hour,” he says, sighing. 

“Stark said he could get you out of it if you needed him to,” Thor says, at least getting a laugh out of him. 

“I’m sure he could’ve,” he replies, turning slightly to get a better look at Bucky. “You must be Natasha’s replacement? Coulson told me you’d be starting today.”

Bucky’s having trouble forming sentences, taking in President Rogers. He’s handsome, more so than he’s seen in the few pictures Bucky’s happened to see online and on the news, and taller than expected, which. Bucky’s trying his best not to stare. 

“Bucky,” he introduces himself. “Nice to meet you, President Rogers.”

“Call me Steve,” he insists, shaking Bucky’s hand. 

“Don’t do that,” Thor says, and Steve gives him a look. 

“You finding everything alright? I know this place can seem a little hectic,” Steve says.

Bucky hates how much he already likes looking at Steve’s face. He just looks so gentle and earnest, as if he genuinely cares about whatever Bucky’s going to say next. 

“Everything’s fine,” Bucky assures him. Steve doesn’t look fully convinced but nods anyway, leading them down to the Oval Office. 

“Natasha warned me you weren’t the chatty type,” Steve says, now walking beside him. Thor’s a few feet ahead, Bucky taking in a deep breath. “But she said you’re the best, so I trust her.”

“She might’ve been right on that,” Bucky says. When Steve gives a small smile, he adds, “on the not very chatty thing. The best, she might be wrong about.”

“I doubt that,” Steve says, “but once we get Sam and Tony in the same room they can do enough talking for the both of us,” Steve says, stopping outside the door.

Thor and Bucky do a sweep of every room before Steve enters it, Bucky soon learns, following through the doors. Once given the nod of approval Steve goes in behind them, making his way to his desk.

“I should probably put this back on,” Steve says, sitting in his chair as he puts his tie onto his desk, looking resigned. 

He’s barely had more than five minutes to himself when there’s a knock on the door, Thor going to answer it. A young woman steps through, her blonde hair swept back into a neat ponytail with a stack of files pressed against her chest.

“President Rogers, how was your meeting?” she asks, approaching his desk.

Steve grimaces, looking up at her from where he’s sitting. “Too long,” he answers. 

“That’s Sharon Carter, his secretary,” Thor explains.

“You have a message from Secretary Stark, and a few others waiting on a response,” she tells him, putting down the files in front of Steve. “Coulson sent me an email that you were meeting your new security replacement today?”

Steve nods toward the door, Sharon turning and seeing Thor and Bucky as she smiles. “Nice to meet you,” she says.

“You too,” Bucky says back, crossing his arms in front of himself.

“Your lunch is coming in soon, giving you about half an hour until your next meeting,” Sharon says, apparently having caught on to the level of stress Steve is currently feeling. “I’ll try to hold them off for as long as I can, but I can’t make any promises.”

“It’s fine,” Steve assures her, “has Wanda been in yet?”

Sharon nods, “She’s bringing in a suit for your dinner later on this week. I’ll send her in in a bit.”

“Thanks, Sharon,” Steve tells her gratefully.

“No problem. Your food should be in shortly,” she promises, motioning to the pile she’d put on the corner of his desk before leaving. 

And that’s it, really. It’s just like Natasha told him - they’re just there to observe and make sure everything’s safe, nothing really much beyond that. Not that Bucky really cares, he prefers to be out of any sort of spotlight. Steve makes a few phone calls while trying to eat most of his lunch, with Sharon coming back in before he’s hardly halfway through with his new outfit at hand.

“You always do this,” she says, forcing him to do up his buttons so she can get his tie back around his neck. With a fair bit of protest she manages to get him to roll his sleeves back down, instructing him that his change of clothes is hanging on the door in his bathroom, and he shouldn’t touch it before Friday under any circumstances. 

Once lunch is over they walk Steve over to Stark’s office, where they talk for a few minutes before he’s needed for another meeting concerning a policy he’d tried to put in last week.

Bucky finds himself overwhelmed, attempting to take it all in best he can. He hasn’t had a minute to himself until Steve is in a meeting, Thor nudging Bucky and telling him to take a small break. Bucky gives him a grateful look, going out the door and making his way outside, through the kitchens.

“Everything alright? The place still intact?” Natasha answers on the second ring.

Bucky sighs in relief, hearing her voice. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this, Nat.”

She pauses for a few moments, Bucky leaning his head back against the brick wall behind him. He’s fucking starving, and still hasn’t had a coffee all day. 

“From what I’ve heard you’ve gotten nothing short of a shining review from your first day,” she tells him.

Bucky blinks, “Where’d you hear that?”

“Coulson was talking to Clint earlier, said Thor is very impressed with you already,” Natasha says. “It’s not easy to get Thor to like you right off the bat, Barnes.”

“You sure you’re not just saying that?” Bucky asks.

“When have I ever lied to you to make you feel better?” Natasha asks him in response.

“Fair enough,” Bucky says. 

“Go inside, have something to eat from the kitchen,” Natasha says, “get some of the coffee from Joe, he’s the only one there who knows how to make it.”

“Thank fuck someone around here does,” Bucky says.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?” Natasha says. “You’re doing great, Barnes. You wouldn’t have made it this far in the day if you weren’t.”

“Thanks, Nat,” he tells her before hanging up.

He manages to get himself half a sandwich, along with a cup of coffee, which, Natasha was right - actually tastes like it, and not some watered down shit in a cup. By the time he gets back to Thor he feels a little more like a real, functioning human being, going back to stand beside Thor at the far end of the room. 

“Feel better?” Thor asks, looking over at Bucky.

Steve’s sitting at the head of a very large table, his tie once again removed and looking just about as stressed as when Bucky left twenty minutes ago. 

“A little,” Bucky says, “how’s he doing?”

“Been a long day, Barnes,” Thor says. “He’ll probably want to go for a run later.”

Bucky nods. 

The meeting goes on for another hour and a half until Steve’s finally allowed to go, shaking a few hands and making his way out the door. Steve turns to Thor as they make their way back to his office.

“You can go home now, if you want. I know Jane’s got a lot going on and she probably wants you there,” Steve says to Thor, “I shouldn’t be here too late, anyway.”

Thor looks at Steve, pausing. “President Rogers, it’s fine -”

“You have a two month old baby waiting at home for you,” Steve cuts him off gently, “go home, Thor. I’m sure Bucky and I will be more than fine.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says to Steve, before turning to Bucky. “Call me if you need anything, alright?”

Bucky promises, and with a final goodbye from Steve he leaves, closing the door behind him. A few moments of silence pass, Steve picking up a few files and looking over them before he finally asks, “How’s your first day going?”

Bucky looks at him. “It’s - fine,” he answers honestly.

“A lot of stuff to learn in one day,” Steve says, and Bucky nods in agreement. 

“I didn’t even know Thor had a baby until five minutes ago,” Bucky says, and Steve laughs in response.

“She’s very cute,” Steve says. “Her name is Rosie.”

“I believe you,” Bucky says.

Steve gets understandably preoccupied by a few other things, picking up the phone when it starts ringing. Judging by the frown on his face Bucky assumes it’s not a welcome call,. He doesn’t move from where he’s standing beside the door. 

Things seem to slow down after that, which Bucky was starting to think wasn’t possible. Steve doesn’t ever seem to stop, pacing and talking on the phone, his face always drawn together in a silent, serious expression. 

“Think I’m done for the day,” Steve says, looking the most relieved Bucky’s seen him yet. “Going to go for a run before I turn in.”

He looks over at Bucky, as if waiting for some sort of confirmation. Bucky nods, assuming he’s the one who has to accompany Steve with him on his run. 

They take their time getting changed, Steve meeting Bucky outside his office. It’s getting colder out, so Bucky puts on gloves and pulls his jacket over his metal arm, not wanting it to get any attention yet. 

He starts off at a steady pace, and it makes Bucky remember how much he hasn’t made a habit of running anymore. But he keeps up with Steve, arms at his sides and hearing their footsteps hit the ground in a steady rhythm. It makes him feel a slight sense of belonging, like he isn’t fucking around in the middle of some city having no idea what he’s doing there.

Steve runs for half an hour, and by the end of it Bucky knows he needs to start actively running more or he isn’t going to make it through a month of this job. 

His sleeping quarters aren’t too far, and Steve looks over at Bucky as he pushes open the door, motioning for him to come in. It’s a little after eight when Bucky checks the time on his phone. 

There are a few photos on tables, with people Bucky doesn’t know. Steve turns on the light in the kitchen area, looking more tired than he has all day, taking a drink of water. He offers Bucky a glass, leaving it on the kitchen counter for him.

“You don’t have to stay anymore,” Steve tells him, watching Bucky with a small smile.

“Right, sorry. I’ll just - head home,” Bucky says, taking a step back toward the door.

“You did really well today,” Steve says, and Bucky knows he means it.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Bucky says, opening the door. “Have a good night.”

Steve’s quiet as he goes. Bucky checks in with his replacement men taking their usual spots as he closes the door and makes his way out to his car.

He has no idea what it must be like, having someone watching him every second of the entire day, lacking any sort of privacy. It’s not something Bucky feels totally comfortable with, never feeling more grateful to get into his car than he is now, making his way home.

He’s exhausted by the time he turns the key to his apartment and steps inside. Lincoln immediately starts whining for him, Bucky hearing her paws against her crate as he opens the door.

“Hey girl,” Bucky says, kissing her head, “miss me?”

The rest of his evening is spent walking Lincoln, avoiding his neighbour Scott Lang, and ending up with a beer on his couch, watching some cop show he can’t remember the name of. Lincoln’s beside him, curled up as he runs his hand over her fur in a slow, circular motion.

 _Always keep the President within your gaze_ , is in large letters on the first page, _but keep a good enough distance_. Along with, _respect his privacy_ and the most important one of all, _keep the President safe_.

He doesn’t get much farther reading before he passes out, the handbook still open on his lap when he wakes up the next morning.

\- 

Bucky’s second day feels like less of a disaster. He isn’t late, and when he gets there Thor is waiting with a cup of Peter’s messy writing that says _Mr. Bucky_ across it, and has something in it that doesn’t taste like anything close to an americano, but he’ll take it.

According to Thor, Steve has a field trip to a local school tomorrow, and since he was up until around two in the morning working, he’s going to spend most of the day in his office. Bucky doesn’t say anything, just nods.

“Morning, Mr. Barnes,” Steve greets Bucky when he steps inside, looking just how Bucky left him yesterday - sleeves rolled up and tie left on the back of his chair. “Decided to come back and face another day?”

“Morning, Mr. President,” Bucky says, and Steve makes a face for a brief moment. “I only came back for the coffee.”

Steve smirks, shaking his head, shuffling a few more papers around. He looks like he’s about to say something when there’s a knock at the door. Bucky pauses, and when Steve raises an eyebrow toward him he opens the door, finding Tony Stark in front of him.

“Mr. Barnes, looking your usual brooding self,” Tony says, “may I come in?”

Bucky nods, opening the door so Tony has enough room to step past him. Steve glances up, briefly, and says, “I don’t have that proposal ready for you yet, if that’s why you’re here.”

“No, I came for your bright company and wit,” Tony says, reading over Steve’s shoulder noticeably. “Is that chair even comfortable? I’ve always wondered.”

“You’re welcome to give it a go, if you’d like. Take over for the day,” Steve offers, motioning to it. 

Tony shakes his head. “I don’t think this country is ready for that yet.”

Steve and Bucky share a look before Steve says, “You’re probably right, Tony.”

“That would be a fucking disaster,” Thor says into the piece in Bucky’s ear, along with a slightly horrified, “Christ.”

Bucky doesn’t vocalize this, Tony and Steve engaging in a conversation he can’t quite follow. He waits, hands crossed in front of himself as the two of them don’t seem to get anywhere. Natasha said they don’t see eye to eye on everything, but Steve’s known Tony almost the longest out of everyone - with a long history of bickering but also respect. 

He can see it, Bucky thinks to himself, watching the two of them. Tony eventually goes, on the promise that Steve will get some sort of draft in his email before he leaves for the night, and by the time the door closes Bucky can hear Steve sigh from the other side of the room.

“Do you have a favourite colour, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky blinks, unsure if he’s heard Steve’s question correctly. When he doesn’t say anything else, Bucky only has to assume he was being completely serious.

“I’m -” Bucky stops himself, unsure. “Blue? If I had to choose,” he says.

Steve, apparently catching on to Bucky’s surprise, says, “My detail wears black and white, as per policy, so I don’t have any idea what their normal wardrobes are like - or what their favourite colours are.”

“Blue? Really?” Thor asks through the earpiece, “bit boring there, Barnes.”

“My favourite colour is red,” Steve says, looking over at Bucky again. “In case you were wondering.”

“Right. Thank you, Mr. President,” Bucky says.

“I’ve never been thanked for having a favourite colour before,” Steve comments, his phone ringing from his desk. “I suppose there’s a first for everything.”

He’s on the phone for the better part of an hour, Bucky not moving from his spot. He’s got a good view of the entire office - from Steve’s desk to the door, which he likes. 

Judging by the tone Steve has, the conversation isn’t going well. Bucky’s started to notice some ticks, tell-tale signs that he isn’t all that pleased. His presses his lips together, tapping his pen against the top of the desk. If he’s particularly unhappy Steve starts to pace behind his desk, running a hand through his hair. 

“Sam? Yeah, it’s me. I’m going to need you to stop by sometime today, whenever you’re free. No, that works, I’ll be here most of the day. Thanks, bye.”

It’s lunch by the time Steve’s wrapped up his conversation, Sharon wheeling in a tray of food for him. 

“You like soup, Mr. Barnes?” Steve asks once Sharon leaves, not until she makes Steve promise he’ll eat all his food.

Bucky doesn’t know when he got involved in a twenty questions game, but he isn’t sure how he feels about it. “I wouldn’t say it’s my favourite,” he answers truthfully.

Steve nods, looking amused. “Probably for the best,” he says, looking grimly down at his bowl. “I never thought broccoli and cheddar was a good combination.”

Bucky watches him for a few moments, unsure of what to say. Steve doesn’t push the subject of soup any further, eating it in silence. He isn’t sure how to read the silence between them, shifting his weight. 

People come in and out throughout the day, and it’s starting to show on Steve. When Sam leaves a little while later Steve leans back in his chair, rubbing his hands along his face. “Don’t let anyone else in,” he says, on the verge of pleading.

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Bucky says, but it’s not a promise.

Steve lets him take a short break a little while later, going to the kitchen for some coffee and food. Clint texted, asking if he’d made it through his second day, and Bucky sends back a string of middle finger emojis to eloquently give him a response.

Steve hasn’t moved since Bucky left, still going through the same pile of papers. 

“You don’t seem like a talker,” Steve breaks the silence between them.

Bucky takes in a deep breath. “Just doing my job, Mr. President.”

Steve’s expression is unreadable, his gaze following Bucky. “You can stop being a brick wall for four seconds, you know.”

His tone isn’t rude, more like an observation. Bucky feels oddly trapped, unsure of what to say next. “You can talk to him, Barnes. He’s still a human, despite his very large job description,” Thor says into Bucky’s ear.

“Do you have a favourite movie, Mr. Barnes?” Steve finally asks, giving him a second chance.

“Oh God,” Bucky says, groaning. “Can I pass? Is that allowed?”

Steve shakes his head, “No passes. Those are the rules.”

“If you don’t answer I reserve the right to fire you,” Steve adds, pointing a pen toward him.

“This is ridiculous,” Bucky says, waving a hand. But Steve doesn’t look like he’s going to change his mind anytime soon, and when he breaks under the pressure Bucky blurts out, “Jurassic Park, fine. Are you happy, Mr. President?”

The first time Steve smiles all day is at Bucky’s answer, looking almost pleased with himself. That seems to settle the conversation between them, the rest of Steve’s day filling up rather quickly. 

Sam stops by a little while later, Bucky once again opening the door for him. “You’re less chatty than the other guy,” he tells Bucky, smirking. “And not as attractive as Romanoff.”

“You can’t spend all day torturing him, like you did the other guy,” Steve says from his desk. “Have my proposal for me? Or do you want to continue to bore us by talking about your crush on Natasha you’re clearly still harbouring.”

“Through all my blood, sweat, and tears,” Sam says, handing over a stack of papers. “And shut up.”

Thor laughs through Bucky’s earpiece, startling him.

Steve rolls his eyes, looking over him. “I’ll look over it tonight,” he says.

“At what, two in the morning?” Sam asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Doesn’t matter to you when I sleep,” Steve says dismissively.

“Whatever,” Sam says. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“After that school trip coming in,” Steve says, and Sam nods. 

“Sleep before five in the morning, please,” Sam says before he goes, the door closing behind him.

Bucky feels almost invisible, which he wouldn’t take as necessarily a bad thing; just means he’s doing his job. Thor leaves around five, under Steve’s strict orders, saying there’s no reason he should stay here when he’s got his little girl at home. A little after five thirty Steve goes for his run, Bucky going along with him as part of their routine. By the end of it Bucky walks Steve to his sleeping quarters, Steve opening the door for him.

“You don’t always have to walk me inside, you know,” Steve tells Bucky, offering him a glass of water.

“Just want to make sure you get in alright,” Bucky says, seeing Steve smile a little.

“Well I appreciate it,” Steve tells him. Christ, he’s like. The most earnest person Bucky’s ever met. 

“Of course, Mr. President. I should really be going, though -” Bucky starts, and Steve nods in understanding.

“I don’t want to keep you any longer,” Steve says, “but, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky turns where he’s standing in front of the door, hand still on the handle. “Yes, sir?”

“You can ask me questions too, you know.” Steve’s voice is quieter now, still looking at Bucky from the kitchen. “Just not the codes to the nukes, and whatnot.”

Bucky can see a softness on Steve’s face, unsure of how else to read it. “I’ll remember that,” he says, meaning it.

Steve seems satisfied with that answer, wishing him a good night as Bucky makes his way home. Lincoln, as always, is waiting for him to walk through the door - licking any part of him she can reach, as he laughs against her fur. 

“Miss me?” Bucky asks, and the bark he gets in response is answer enough for him. 

-

By the time Bucky arrives the next morning, the President still isn’t fully dressed for the school trip visit happening within the hour.

He’s currently on the phone, with the cord wrapped around him and Sharon trying to get him to finish whatever breakfast is still on the tray in front of him. Judging by the struggle happening, it isn’t going in anyone’s favour. 

“You’re completely _hopeless_ ,” Sharon says, and Steve doesn’t fight her on that comment.

Steve is wearing a white t shirt, along with a pair of track pants, and Bucky’s fairly certain that’s the outfit he left him wearing last night. Sharon leaves a little while later, handing Bucky a piece of paper for the activities with the school trip today. Steve doesn’t move from his desk.

“Morning, Mr. Barnes,” Steve greets, hanging up his phone. “How was the rest of your evening?”

“It was fine, thank you sir,” Bucky tells him.

Steve’s about to ask something else when the door to his office bursts open, a young woman Bucky’s never seen before walking through it. He goes to grab her, because she’s just walked into the President’s Office without so much as a knock, when she turns to look at him.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” she asks Bucky, approaching Steve’s desk, “you’re still not dressed? Honestly, Steve, you’re a mess.”

Bucky blinks, seeing Steve smile over at her, shrugging. “Been a busy morning,” he tells her simply, and Bucky’s feeling very out of the loop.

Could it be his girlfriend? Bucky nearly frowns at the thought, unsure why that would even bother him, ignoring it. Plus there’s the added fact she called him Steve, and Bucky really has no clue what the fuck is going on.

“Steve’s stylist. She’ll bite you if you try to stop her,” Thor says knowingly into Bucky’s ear.

And, sure enough, Bucky seemed to miss the suit in her arms, holding it up for Steve. “You can’t take the tie off this time -” she’s starting to lecture him, pushing him toward the bathroom so he can get dressed.

“You speaking from experience, sir?” Bucky asks into his microphone.

There’s a beat of silence until he answers with a “yes,” which is answer enough for Bucky.

“Wanda, this is Bucky - Natasha’s replacement,” Steve introduces them before the bathroom door very nearly shuts on his face.

“Nice to meet you,” Wanda says, extending a hand to him, which Bucky cautiously takes.

Steve comes out a few minutes later, still doing up his tie and shirt not yet tucked in. Wanda exhales, walking over toward him and helping him with his tie, fixing a bit of hair that’s fallen in front of his face. Steve makes no comment on her continuing to fuss with him, adjusting the collar of his shirt and putting a comb through his hair.

Bucky has to give it to her, though, he looks good. Steve’s laughing at something Wanda’s told him, watching them in silent amusement. They’ve got a little less than half an hour, according to the schedule, and by the time Wanda finishes up it’s about time they start heading out.

“You ready, Mr. Barnes?” Steve asks, checking himself in his bathroom mirror one last time. 

A handful of other men are escorting Steve to the front room, along with Bucky and Thor, waiting just outside the Oval Office for them. 

“Think so,” Bucky answers, and Steve doesn’t look fully convinced.

Steve gives him another gentle, almost reassuring smile before they go, and that settles something in Bucky, moving out the door into the hallway. Thor gives him a nod, the group of them starting off. The first thing they’re greeted with in the front entrance is the bright flashes from cameras and a handful of reporters motioning toward Steve, trying to get his attention.

“Jesus,” Bucky swears under his breath.

Beside him, Thor smirks. “This isn’t even that bad,” he says. 

“Jesus,” Bucky repeats.

The kids are all watching Steve in what looks to be a stunned silence as he approaches them, bending down to shake some of their hands, the whole interaction feeling very formal.

A girl approaches Steve, looking very determined, sticking out her hand in front of him. Steve raises his eyebrows, shaking it. Before he has a moment to ask her her name she tells him, “I’m going to be president some day, sir.”

Steve nods, his smile widening. “I don’t doubt that,” he tells her, “what’s your name?”

“Lucy,” she says, standing up straighter.

“I look forward to seeing you in here one day, Lucy,” Steve says, slowly standing where he’d been kneeling to talk to her. “It was nice meeting you.”

He says a short, good morning speech to the group of them before they’re led off for their tour. There’s a roomful of reporters waiting for him next, the kids scheduled to meet up with Steve again later for lunch. 

“Why the sudden interest in letting so many kids into the White House?” “Have you spoken to Miss. Carter since your very public break up?” “Did Miss. Carter know about your sexuality during your time together?”

Bucky’s got a headache from being in this room for less than five minutes, not even imagining what it must be like having all those questions directed at him, no less. But Steve waits until it dies down until he steps up to the microphone, clearing his throat.

Clint’s a little off to the side, watching. He’s picked out a handful of reporters who want to ask questions, the first one being, “President Rogers, do you have any comments on the impending bill regarding student loans?”

The lights are bright on him, and Steve winces as he tries to find the reporter who asked the question in the crowd. “We’re working on it right now, have been in discussions and meetings on it for the past number of weeks and hope to reach a conclusion soon.”

There’s a mumbling from the audience in response, a short pause until someone else asks, “President Rogers, do you have any comments on your coming out a few weeks back? Has that affected your term in any way so far since you’re entering into your last year of your last term?”

Bucky heard about this, briefly. Shortly after Steve Rogers had been elected for his second term he’d come out as bisexual, which was a very hot topic, and apparently still is. Bucky sees Steve sigh away from the microphone before he answers, “I think I’ve said all I need to say on that subject, seeing as nothing can or will change it.”

More chatting among one another in the audience. From where Clint’s standing Bucky can see him frowning, clearly unhappy with the way things are going. 

There’s a few more questions on the bill concerning student loans, along with a number of other questions concerning Steve’s sexuality, Peggy Carter, and other things that Steve very clearly does not want to discuss, though that doesn’t seem to stop them. 

By the time Steve leaves the room he looks like a ticking bomb, loosening his tie and lips pressed into a thin line. The rest of the security team keep their distance, Bucky staying at his side, walking him back to his office. Steve starts pacing whey they get back inside, with less than twenty minutes until they’re due at lunch. 

“You’d think they could come up with something to talk about other than my sexuality,” Steve finally snaps, arms crossed over his chest. “I mean, there are real issues going on in the world, but those apparently aren’t exciting to talk about.”

When Bucky answers a knock on the door it’s Clint, letting him in. 

“Keep him as calm best you can,” Thor tells Bucky through his earpiece, waiting outside. 

“President Rogers, I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were going to stay on one line of questioning,” Clint starts immediately, before adding, “assholes.”

Steve stops moving to look over at him, brows still drawn together. “It’s alright, it’s not your fault,” Steve tells him. 

“Do you want me to release a statement on it?” Clint asks, taking out his phone.

Steve watches him for a moment, considering. “We can work on one this week,” he says.

“I’ll get something ready for you to look over tomorrow,” Clint promises. 

He gives Bucky a silent look, gripping his shoulder briefly before going out the door. Steve doesn’t say anything yet, as if still trying to get some sort of composure before going back out there. Bucky waits, watching the way he braces both hands against his desk, as if trying to find some way to ground himself. 

“Are they ready for me out there?” Steve asks, finally looking up at Bucky.

Bucky nods, “Unless you need a few more minutes, sir.”

“I’m fine,” Steve assures him, making his way toward the door. 

Bucky doesn’t question him, moving him along to where all the children are eating lunch. They take Steve along to a number of tables as he engages with them, smiling for the pictures and not at all like the man Bucky saw just a few minutes ago in his office.

“What’s that?”

He assumes the question is being asked at Steve, so Bucky is surprised to see a kid pointing at him when he looks up. He stops, realizing he’s pointing at Bucky’s metal hand, a wave of panic hitting him.

Steve pauses, turning around to look at Bucky, taking only a few moments himself to realize what’s happening. A bunch of the other kids start pressing in, all curiously looking at Bucky’s metal hand as he takes a step back.

“Are you a robot, mister?” one kid asks, reaching for it.

Bucky’s throat feels tight, trying his best to pull down his sleeve to cover it up but it’s no use - they’ve all seen it. It’s somehow managed to turn into quite the scene until he hears Thor’s voice, “Why don’t we get back to our seats, keep eating our lunch.”

He’s standing in front of Bucky now, arms spread out and trying to herd them back to their chairs. He looks back at Bucky, motioning for him to get out of here, which he does.

He ends up outside a door near the kitchens, the cold, January air hitting his face the moment he steps out. Days like this make Bucky want to take up smoking again, even though he’d quit a year ago - the urge is still there. It would always give him something to do with his hands when he got panicky.

All he can think about is how the kids stared at him with their eyes wide, like he was some sort of threat. And he’d just left, gone to the fucking kitchens instead of doing his job and sucked it up like anyone would’ve done, Bucky left. He wraps his arms around himself, trying to combat the cold and have a moment to fucking breathe.

“Barnes?”

He sees Thor in the doorway, watching Bucky. “I’m sorry, sir, I should’ve stayed -”

“You should go home,” Thor cuts him off easily, his voice firm but also gentle at once. “Take the day and rest.”

“I should stay, I can -”

“We’ll be fine, I promise. One of us will stay a bit later instead of you,” Thor insists.

He’s going to be fucking fired his first week, Bucky thinks, because he couldn’t stay and guard the President of the United States, which is literally the only part of his job. 

Looking at Thor, Bucky knows he isn’t going to change his mind, giving him a slow nod. “Thank you, sir,” he says, unsure of what else there is left to say. 

“No need to thank me. Just get some rest,” Thor says, clasping his shoulder briefly before going back inside. “I’ll just tell Sharon you’re done for the day.”

Bucky goes, only because his chest feels so fucking tight and he knows if he stays here any longer he’s going to full on panic in the middle of the White House kitchens. He takes his bag and goes back to his car, turning off his phone and refusing to touch it for the rest of the night. 

Lincoln’s waiting for him, Bucky kneeling down as she presses up against him. The apartment’s quiet, as it usually is, which makes the panic lingering in Bucky’s chest tighter. 

He’s really gone and fucked this entire thing up. After Natasha got him the job, used her only recommendation on him and he actually got hired for God knows what reason - only he’s let her down. But then again, Bucky thinks, that’s something she’s probably used to coming from him. 

He stands, trying to make it to the kitchen and get himself a glass of water, but Bucky only makes it far enough to brace the edge of his small dining room, head bowed and heart fucking pounding in his chest. If he’s panicking this badly about a bunch of kids how is he going to protect the President of the fucking United States in an emergency? He’s not cut out for this, clearly, Bucky thinks to himself.

He keeps thinking back to waking up in the hospital room, with Clint and Natasha beside him, looking like they hadn’t slept in fucking days, waiting for him to wake up. Bucky can still recall the way Natasha looked at him when he’d blinked awake, like she couldn’t believe he was really here, back with her.

She’d held his hand, as she told him what had happened, and Bucky had listened. Clint stood beside her, his face pulled into a tight expression - eyes puffy and arms crossed over his chest. Bucky had barely managed to survive that, and now he can’t even stand in a room with little kids like the grown man he is.

“You’re alright, Barnes, you’re safe.” Natasha told him over and over, and it always plays in Bucky’s head when everything feels just out of his control - like it’s all falling apart just out of his reach. 

But it doesn’t feel alright, he doesn’t feel alright. He’s so fucked, gripping the table and exhaling best he can. 

He keeps seeing the way Steve had looked back at him, his face soft and concerned among the handful of kids pushing past him. When it was him everyone should’ve been concerned about, he was wasting his time staring at Bucky.

Lincoln starts licking his hand, bringing him back down. Bucky looks at her gratefully, feeling tired and heavy as he kisses her head. 

“Good girl,” he tells her softly, knowing at least she won’t really care if he’s fired or not.

He eats half an apple, getting her leash and making his way outside. They’ve made so far as the hallway when he hears a voice, “Hello, neighbour!”

Bucky turns, seeing Scott grinning over toward him. “Hi,” he says, gripping Lincoln’s leash tight.

“Home early from work?” Scott asks.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, “got half the day off.”

“That’s not so bad,” Scott says, and Bucky nods.

“Should probably get her out for her walk, though,” Bucky says.

“Don’t want to keep her waiting,” Scott says, giving Bucky one final wave before closing his door.

Bucky checks his phone on his walk, seeing five missed calls from Nat - three from Clint, not answering them. He just needs some time.

-

Clint calls him at five the following morning and Bucky feels murderous.

“What the fuck,” Bucky answers, still half asleep. “I fucking hate you, Barton.”

“Good morning to you too, Barnes. But, as the official Press Secretary I need to inform you of things,” Clint says, not sounding all that pleased himself. “Even if it’s at five in the fucking morning.”

Bucky sits up slowly, Lincoln shifting beside him in bed. “If Steve’s in the papers, I don’t think you need to call me about it,” he says flatly. “That’s a daily occurrence.”

“No, this concerns you,” Clint tells him. Bucky pauses, trying to blink awake. 

“Me?” Bucky repeats, pushing himself up out of bed.

“Do you get the paper?” Clint asks.

“Yes, of course I do,” Bucky answers, opening his front door to get it from his doorstep.

“Brace yourself,” Clint warns.

Bucky rolls his eyes, even though Clint can’t see it, putting it on his kitchen table. He cradles his phone between his cheek and shoulder, opening ot the first page. 

_Man with Metal Arm with President Rogers: Security or Security Threat?_

When Bucky doesn’t say anything Clint asks, “You still with me?”

“What the fuck is this?”

“I don’t know, someone got a picture of you and leaked it -”

“Great,” Bucky says, the same panic gripping his chest as yesterday.

_A new member of President Rogers’ personal security detail, was seen yesterday in action guarding him as a local school visited the White House for a tour and lunch with the man of the hour. One of the schoolchildren from Eaton Elementary School spotted a metal arm on a Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes who has replaced former Special Agent Natasha Romanoff._

“I can get them to run a different article, or possibly an interview with you -”

“No, it’s fine,” Bucky cuts him off, closing his eyes. 

“It doesn’t sound fine,” Clint says, and Bucky sighs.

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” Bucky tells him before hanging up. 

He should just get a bright, neon sign to hang above him flashing the words _I’m Fucked_ for everyone to see. Maybe that will be the headline tomorrow, Bucky thinks as he throws his newspaper into the trash, heading out for a run since he’s up so fucking early. 

He manages to get in a short run around the neighbourhood with Lincoln, getting home and taking a shower. He’s bracing himself for the moment he walks into the White House and they tell him he’s no longer working there, putting on his usual work clothes. He gives Lincoln a treat before he goes, his feet feeling heavy as he walks toward his car.

To his surprise Coulson isn’t waiting for Bucky when he gets there like he thought he would be to fire him on the spot. His phone goes off once he’s past security checks, going to put his bag away. 

“Hello?” he answers, opening his designated locker.

“What, you only pick up for Clint now?” Natasha says on the other line. “What the hell, Barnes.”

“I just - had a rough night,” Bucky says, hearing Natasha sigh.

“Rough night or not you pick up your fucking phone,” she says.

“Fine,” Bucky agrees. “You see my face in the paper? Apparently I’m famous.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Natasha says, softer now; on the verge of sympathetic. “I had no idea they’d turn you into a headline.”

“Yeah, well. I’m sure they won’t keep me here much longer because of it,” Bucky says.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. I have to go but I’ll talk to you later, alright?” Natasha says, muffled voices in the background. 

“Talk to you later,” Bucky says before hanging up, leaning his forehead against the cool metal.

He eventually goes in because he figures it’s better to get it over with sooner rather than later, finding Thor in his usual spot outside the Oval Office. He’s talking to Peter, who’s holding his usual trays of coffee, turning once he spots Bucky.

“Mr. Barnes,” Thor starts, “how are you feeling?”

“Better,” Bucky says, “thank you, again, for yesterday.”

Thor smiles. “It’s fine,” he assures Bucky, “Peter’s got your coffee.”

“Thanks, Peter,” Bucky says, taking his cup. 

“No problem Mr. Bucky, sir,” Peter manages to get out.

Thor rolls his eyes, still smiling a little as he looks over at Peter once more. “Tell Clint he can come by in a little bit, if he still wants to see both Barnes and the President,” he says.

“Of course. I’ll make sure he knows,” Peter says, walking off down the hallway.

Bucky looks at the door for a few moments, debating if he should actually go in or not. After about a minute Thor clears his throat, Bucky taking that as a silent nudge, steps in.

There’s a few people in front of Steve’s desk, including Tony and Sam, all talking among one another. Steve glances up, hearing the door, his eyes following Bucky for a few moments as he takes his usual spot. 

He has no idea what they’re all discussing, or how long they’ve been inside this cramped space, but when Tony tells them this entire meeting has been a waste of all their fucking time, no one tells him he’s wrong.

“If everyone could clear out I would appreciate that,” Steve starts, looking at all the people in front of his desk, then over to Bucky and adds, “except you, Barnes.”

Bucky takes in a deep breath, unsure of what to expect; the only real thought in his head being oh fuck, the President is about to fire me. They all file out one after the other, Tony stopping for a moment to look over at Bucky and says, “First week on the job and you’re already a headline? I have to say, I am impressed.”

“You too, Mr. Stark,” Steve says, motioning with his hand.

Sam nudges Tony’s shoulder and he goes, eventually, closing the door behind him so it’s just the two of them in his office. That, and Thor listening in on Bucky’s earpiece. He braces himself best he can, waiting for Steve to start.

He comes around his desk, leaning against it. As is usual with Steve his sleeves are rolled up, tie taken off and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone, so it’s nothing out of the ordinary. He looks at Bucky for a few moments, as if trying to get a read on him. 

“I’m sorry, about yesterday,” Steve finally begins. “I didn’t know the kids were going to react like that and had I known, I would’ve done something about it sooner.”

Bucky isn’t sure what to say, blinking slowly, replaying what Steve just told him in his head. “Sir, if anyone should be apologizing it should be me -”

Steve cuts him off with a silent shake of his head. “You got made into a headline over something you can’t do anything about, and I’m sorry. Clint and I are looking into fixing it somehow, but for right now all that I can offer you is an apology.”

He looks so fucking sincere, standing there, waiting for Bucky to say something and all Bucky can manage in response is, “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

Steve’s quiet for a moment, as if debating what he’s going to say next. He asks, “Can I ask?”

Bucky hasn’t talked about this with anyone before. Natasha and Clint, a few times, but never anyone else. He looks down at his hands for a moment, trying to collect himself. 

He knows Steve isn’t asking because this is some kind of gossip; he’s asking because for whatever reason Bucky doesn’t understand, he cares enough to want to know the answer.

“We were on a tour. It was my last one, I was on my last couple of months there,” Bucky starts. Steve’s silent, not even moving where he’s watching Bucky. “It was a ride along, we’d done it countless times before. I was talking to this guy I became friends with - Ryan. We were talking about back home I didn’t even realize we were in trouble until the explosion had gone off. By that time we were already out of the van, and I only had a few seconds to try and save everyone. I got a few of them away in time - but not all of them.”

Steve’s jaw is tight, but his expression still soft. “I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes,” he says.

“I lost a lot of men that day, including Ryan.” Bucky looks at his metal arm again, “this is just a constant reminder of that.”

Steve waits, and when he doesn’t say anything Bucky adds, “But if you feel that I’m - unfit, for the job you need to tell someone. Preferably me, but I would like to know regardless.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone else I would want doing this job,” Steve tells him, meaning it.

A small bit of tension dissipates, making it easier for Bucky to breathe.

“You have a bulletproof arm and I’m the President. I think that’s a pretty good combination, don’t you?” Bucky doesn’t know how to respond to that. “Besides, you’re much better to look at than the last guy.”

Bucky clears his throat, feeling his face heat up as he watches Steve smile over at him again. He’s still fucked, but in a completely different way now.

“Sharon would like to come in if you two have finished your - moment,” Thor says into Bucky’s ear. 

 

Before he has a chance to respond the door opens and Sharon comes in holding a to go cup, Clint not far behind her and Peter following in last. 

“Again with tie? The sleeves rolled up is one thing, Rogers, but come _on_ ,” Sharon says, sounding her usual exasperated tone as she starts pulling them down, doing up the buttons despite Steve’s frown in silent protest.

“I think it looks alright,” he says, and Sharon rolls her eyes. “What do you think, Barnes?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow toward him.

Clint’s giving Bucky a confused look, Peter terribly masking a laugh behind the back of his hand, and Bucky finds himself, once again, at a loss for words.

“No comment, sir,” he responds.

Sharon nods over at Bucky, clearly pleased with this response. “That’s the right answer, see?” she says, pointedly directed at Steve.

“Is everything ready for the dinner?” Steve asks, and Sharon nods. 

“Your suit is pressed and hanging up in the bathroom,” Sharon says, “don’t take off your tie at this dinner, Rogers, for the love of God.”

“I make no promises,” Steve tells her, laughing at the face she gives him. “Thanks, Sharon.”

Once she leaves, Clint gives Bucky an apologetic look before looking back at Steve, “They got his information from an article printed almost two years ago, when Bucky came home to Brooklyn.”

Steve nods to Clint, taking the file he hands him. “What are our options?”

“We don’t have many,” Clint starts, his face in a tight expression. “Could have him go in for an interview, or have you issue a statement that you think Barnes is a good asset to your team, that sort of thing.”

“Let’s do the statement. Gets more people reading it quicker,” Steve says. “Can you get it out before my dinner tonight?”

Clint nods.

Peter’s standing a few feet from Bucky, and when Bucky looks over at him he says, “For the record I think your metal arm is cool Mr. Bucky, sir.”

Thor laughs in Bucky’s ear, “Fuck.”

“I - thanks, Peter,” Bucky says, smiling a little. 

“I’m really sorry, Buck. I didn’t know this would happen,” Clint says, walking over from Steve’s desk.

Bucky can feel Steve’s eyes watching him as he shakes his head. “It’s fine, it’s really not a big deal.”

“Well, just know I’m taking care of it,” Clint promises.

“I mean, Peter thinks my metal arm is cool, so that’s good enough for me,” Bucky jokes.

“Christ,” Clint mumbles, putting an arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulling him close to his chest. “You gotta learn when to shut your mouth, Parker.”

He drags Peter out of Steve’s office, the door closing as they go. 

It’s quiet for a few minutes until Steve asks, “Do you have a favourite book, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky pauses, pressing his lips together.

“Harry Potter,” Thor unhelpfully says through the earpiece.

“I have an old copy of 1984. It’s the only thing of my dad’s that I have,” Bucky says, shrugging. “I’ve read that one the most.”

Steve nods, still looking over at Bucky. “I haven’t read that since I was in school,” he says.

His phone goes off a few moments later, Steve picking it up and immediately frowning. The rest of the afternoon carries on, and by the time Wanda gets there to help Steve get dressed for his dinner he’s nowhere near ready for it.

“Wilson’s just about ready to go and here you are,” Wanda says when Steve’s finally off the phone.

“No one’s going to notice if I’m late,” Steve says, and Wanda just shakes her head.

By the time he’s dressed and has had his hair taken care of they’ve got less than five minutes to spare, making their way outside toward the car parked waiting for him. 

“So glad you could make it,” Sam says flatly when the door opens, giving Steve a look. 

Bucky sits in front of them, a car with the rest of the men following behind. Thor insisted on coming with tonight, claiming he wanted to see Bucky’s first attempt at trying to keep Mr. Rogers contained, which. Sounds very promising, Bucky thinks.

Sam scoffs when Steve tries to tell him his tie is a little crooked, swatting his hand away and going on a rant about how Steve is always late to everything, Bucky listening in mild amusement. 

The drive is less than half an hour, and when Bucky gets the door open for them they’re once again greeted with bright flashes and people yelling Steve’s name in every direction. There’s a lot more than there were at the White House, and when Sam is ushered in first Bucky follows with Steve, who doesn’t stop to answer any questions on his way in.

The event itself is nicer than anything Bucky’s ever set foot in. Steve immediately gets swarmed with people, all asking him questions and fighting for his attention. Thor’s a few feet away, giving Bucky a knowing look.

“He’s very popular,” Thor says into his microphone.

“Apparently,” Bucky says back, watching Steve.

Sam and Steve are sitting at the same table, along with a young woman who seems very interested in everything Steve has to say. 

It’s a democrat event, as Clint briefed him before they left, and Bucky still has no idea what he’s even doing here. 

Sam excuses himself, Steve looking a bit cornered where he’s sitting, but he doesn’t make any effort to leave, Bucky notes.

“You should probably take him for a lap,” Thor says.

Bucky blinks, confused. “A lap?”

“Tell him he’s got a call he needs to answer, that it’s urgent or something,” Thor clarifies. 

“What about Sam?”

“He’s hiding at the bar.” Thor says.

Bucky sighs, taking in a deep breath as he approaches the table. “Excuse me, Mr. President?”

They both look over at Bucky, Steve looking rather grateful. “You have an important call waiting,” Bucky finishes.

“I’ll just - be a few minutes, I’m sorry,” Steve says, slowly getting up. 

Bucky ushers him out into the hallway, and immediately Steve looks relieved to be out of that room. “Was I really that obvious?”

“Yes,” Thor says.

“A little,” Bucky censors. “Just looked like you needed a minute, that’s all.”

It’s already a little after ten, and Bucky hopes Scott’s already taken Lincoln for her walk or there will be hell to pay when he finally gets home. 

“I’m sure no one will notice if we take a little walk, then,” Steve says. He sends Sam a text to cover for him, starting down the hallway and opening a door outside.

There’s the faint sound of DC traffic behind them and despite the cold, Steve puts his hands in his pockets and starts walking along a paved path through the small gardens. He looks over at Bucky, who’s keeping his distance.

“You can walk with me, you know,” Steve says as he motions for Bucky to join him, which he does.

Bucky glances to Steve, a few lamps illuminating their path, taking him in for a moment. His eyes are focused ahead, jaw tight. He walks as if he’s got the weight of the entire world squared away between his shoulders; Bucky looks away, then, the two walking in silence for a little while.

“Do you have anyone waiting up for you?” Steve asks before adding, “since we’re, or I’m, I guess, keeping you out a bit later.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, no one.”

Steve nods, looking oddly pleased with Bucky’s answer, as they continue walking along. “I read your file, after the other day - when you’d gone home, after telling me about your time served,” he says. Bucky takes in a deep breath, waiting for him to finish. Steve’s still looking at him, eyes trailing along Bucky’s metal arm, “You saved all those men, out there. If you hadn’t done what you did...”

Bucky doesn’t look Steve in the eye. “I was just doing my job, sir.”

They stay out there a little while longer, until Steve gets called back in by Sam, who apparently is “done covering for your sorry ass, Mr. President.”

“Thank you, for joining me out here to freeze,” Steve says to Bucky once they step inside.

Bucky looks at him again for a moment. “Just doing my job, sir,” he says, the two of them walking back toward the dining hall.

-

“So they finally gave you a day off?”

That’s Natasha’s first question when Bucky’s barely made it through the her front door, kicking off his shoes. 

“You know Rogers, always has some event to go to,” Bucky says, making his way into the kitchen.

“Clint will be home soon. Apparently he had to help Peter with some computer crisis,” Natasha says, handing Bucky a beer. 

“Makes sense,” Bucky says, smirking as he tips some back into his mouth. 

“We’ve lived in the same city for almost a month and this is the first time I’m seeing you,” Natasha says, putting the last plate down on the table. “Rogers really working you that hard?”

“Probably trying to see how long I last,” Bucky says, and Natasha laughs in response. 

“He likes you, you know,” Natasha tells him. 

Bucky makes a face. “What, you two emailing each other about me?”

“Relax, Barnes,” Natasha says, pinching his arm. 

“How’s the new job going?” Bucky asks, getting out some cups.

“It’s good,” Natasha says, “not as stressful as Rogers, if you can imagine.”

Bucky smirks, not saying anything. Natasha gives him her usual, concerned look, but before she can ask anything else, Clint can be heard coming through the door.

“Fucking Peter opened some sort of virus through an email, can you believe it?” Clint says when he walks into the kitchen, first pressing a kiss to Natasha’s cheek, “that fucking kid, I swear.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Natasha says, handing him a second beer.

Bucky sits in a chair, taking another drink, hearing Clint sigh. “I’m sure he didn’t either, but he’s still a pain in my ass,” Clint says.

“You’re the one who hired him,” Natasha points out.

“Yeah, well, I thought he’d make my job easier,” Clint says, running a hand through his hair. “How was your day off?”

“Good,” Bucky says. “Not that interesting.”

“Well you’re lucky, because Rogers was in quite the mood,” Clint says. 

“Why?” Natasha asks, looking over at Clint from the oven.

“No fucking idea. Was like that when I got in. Even Thor didn’t even know why,” Clint says. “You’re back in tomorrow, right?”

Bucky nods, eating a carrot left on the counter. “Bright and fucking early.”

“Thank fuck,” Clint says. “Maybe you can help him out of this mood.”

“I don’t make any promises,” Bucky says, and Clint flips him off from the other side of the room.

He stays until a little after ten, promising Natasha he’s fine, he’s taking care of himself, and he’ll see her on his next day off - or possibly sooner. Lincoln’s waiting for him when he gets home, hanging up his keys and going to sit in the living room.

Lincoln immediately curls up at his side, which was how most of their day was spent until he’d left for Natasha and Clint’s for dinner. 

He’s left the news on, leaning his head back while carding his fingers through Lincoln’s fur.

“Are President Rogers and Peggy Carter back on?”

Bucky pauses, listening. 

“Sources tell us Miss. Carter was seen leaving the White House early this morning, and neither sources from President Rogers or Miss. Carter have gotten back to us on the reason for the surprise visit. So we’re just left to assume they’re back on since the President’s surprise of coming out as bisexual at the beginning of his second term, only a few weeks ago. What do you all think? Could there be romance starting in the White House again?”

“Jesus,” Bucky mutters, going to turn off the television. “Think that’s enough news for one day, what do you say?” he asks Lincoln, padding off his bedroom.

And if he falls asleep wondering who Steve is dating, so be it.

-

Steve’s got a handful of people shoved into his office again, and an event he’s got to get to in under an hour by the time Bucky gets to him. He slips in unnoticed, Steve not even seeing him get through the door.

Everyone’s voices are raised, but Bucky can see the way Steve’s pinching the bridge of his nose. That’s never a good sign. 

“If all we’re going to do is yell in my office, can I suggest we save it for later? I have to get ready to speak at a University event,” Steve says, everyone turning to look at him.

“You heard the man,” Tony Stark adds, motioning everyone toward the door.

It takes a few minutes to get them out, and when Tony finally manages to close the door Steve says a quiet, “Fuck,” under his breath.

“That didn’t go quite as we hoped it would,” Tony says, approaching Steve’s desk.

“Apparently not,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’ll get them back in here and they’ll realize what a bunch of asshole they were,” Tony says.

“You sound very confident in that,” Steve says, sighing. “Is Murdoch in yet?”

“Not yet. Got tied up in court, apparently,” Tony says, checking his phone. “Weird, considering he’s the Attorney General.”

“I have to get ready for something, Tony,” Steve says, smiling just a little.

“What, are you pushing me out already? After all I’ve done for you this morning?” Tony asks, mock offended with a hand on his chest.

“Goodbye, Stark. I’ll see you later,” Steve says, Tony finally going. He turns, seeing Bucky and adds, “Mr. Barnes. How was your day off?”

“Better than yours, apparently,” Bucky responds.

Steve nods. “Barton’s got a big mouth on him.”

Bucky doesn’t argue, because he has a point. Steve’s got a lunch, according to Sharon’s schedule, and they’re out the door in good time. It’s nothing too formal, Thor tells Bucky, just a meeting with some members of congress.

And Steve’s good with things like this, Bucky’s observed. With the shaking of hands, the small talk, all of it. He does the same with this lunch, going through and chatting to everyone - barely touching his food with people approaching him.

Steve Rogers is a man whose attention is wanted by many, is something Bucky’s learned since his first day in the White House, and for good reason. 

He doesn’t seem as stressed as he was back in his office, playing the part well. By the time they’re heading back to the car Steve takes his time, getting in his usual seat. He’s quiet, expression unreadable where Bucky’s sitting across from him once again.

When they get back to the White House, Thor is waiting for them. He pulls Bucky aside, seeing Peter talking to someone he doesn’t recognize. 

“Everything alright?” Bucky asks, knowing full well the obvious answer to that question is no, everything's not alright.

“Peggy’s here,” Thor says.

He stares at Bucky, as if he’s supposed to understand what this means. “And?” Bucky asks.

“And, Steve would like some privacy with her,” Thor continues. “They shouldn’t be long, though, so you won’t be out here long -”

“I’m not going in?” Bucky asks, looking toward Steve’s office. 

Thor looks at Bucky for a moment, as if having some sort of internal debate. Peter ushers in the woman he’s talking to, who Bucky assumes is Peggy, and Thor gives him a silent, apologetic look before following in after them. The door closes and Bucky’s left out in the hallway, feeling frustrated and wondering what the fuck he could’ve done to get sent to stand out here.

Thor’s even turned his microphone off, Bucky not being able to hear anything, feeling useless as he stands next to the door. 

“Mr. Bucky, sir?” Peter’s voice comes.

Bucky looks over at him. “Yes?”

“Clint would like to see President Rogers, after his little meeting, if you could remind him?” he asks.

Bucky doesn’t answer, just nods, and Peter makes his way back down the hallway. There’s a handful of people walking past, and he hears Peggy’s name whispered more than once as they go. Bucky exhales, hands crossed in front of himself.

He doesn’t have any sort of explanation, no reason for him to be locked out like this. All he really knows is that Peggy and Thor are in there and he isn’t, for whatever fucking reason. Maybe they are getting back together, Bucky knows that has no real affect on him, so there’s no point to him being upset over this. Because it’s not like Steve should go around discussing if he is or is not getting back together with his ex girlfriend, that’s none of Bucky’s business, all his job here really is to make sure he’s safe. That’s it.

Which still doesn’t explain the irritation prickling under his skin, but still. 

He hasn’t even really done anything that would warrant his being kicked out of the office, he thinks to himself. Not anything that he can think of off the top of his head, which presumably means there isn’t anything, so. 

Sharon gives him an itinerary for another event this week, Bucky folding it and putting it into his pocket. He’s annoyed. And frustrated. Which isn’t the best combination.

The door to Steve’s office opens a little over half an hour later, when Bucky’s had nothing but time to stand and go over everything in his head for far longer than necessary.

“Thank you for the book again,” Thor’s telling Peggy, who’s smiling up at him.

Bucky’s not annoyed anymore, he decides. 

“Peggy this is our new guard, James,” Steve adds, and Bucky tries not to notice the hand he has pressed to Peggy’s lower back.

“Nice to meet you,” Peggy tells him, shaking Bucky’s hand briefly. “You don’t have to walk me out though, Steve. I reckon I know the way fairly well now.”

Bucky presses his lips together, averting his gaze. He can feel Thor watching him and ignores him. Steve smiles over at Peggy, nodding. 

“Thanks again, for stopping by. It was nice to see you,” Steve says, and when he steps back Peggy presses a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” Peggy says, and Bucky can see the way she’s gently holding Steve’s arm when she says it.

By the time she’s gone Steve’s walking back into his office, Bucky looks up to see Thor still staring at him.

“You going to go in there?” Thor asks, motioning to the open door to the Oval Office.

“Didn’t know if I was allowed or not,” Bucky snaps.

Bucky pauses in the doorway, waiting for Thor to continue, hand on the door before finally stepping inside. Thor closes the door after him, face pulled into a tight expression. Bucky takes his usual spot, Steve moving to sit at his desk wordlessly. Neither of them say anything, and Bucky knows he shouldn’t read too much into it, considering it’s not part of his job description to have small talk with the President when he should be working. 

Bucky can’t stop thinking about the way Peggy’s hand lingered on Steve’s arm, hates that he keeps replaying the moment in his head. 

“Is Clint still wanting to meet with me?” Steve asks.

“Peter told me he wanted to see you when you were done with your other meeting,” Bucky says stiffly.

Steve nods, “I’ll let him know I’m free, then.”

They go over to Clint’s office because Steve claims he needs to stretch his legs, Bucky and Thor walking behind him. Neither of them talk, and Bucky knows it’s not the good kind of silence - Thor’s expression unreadable.

Steve knocks on Clint’s door, Peter beckoning him in. But before Bucky can get even a step toward Clint’s office, Thor stops him.

Bucky isn’t sure what to expect, Thor telling Steve they’ll be inside in just a moment. He waits, hearing Thor sigh.

“I’m telling you this because you’re new, Barnes,” Thor starts. “President Rogers isn’t your friend, he’s your boss. Anything outside of that is far from you job description. That being said, Steve and Peggy isn’t a story I can tell you - that’s for him to tell you, on his own time, if he ever feels that’s at any point something he wants share with you. Though considering how new you are, the amount he’s already let you in you should be grateful for.”

Bucky doesn’t move, staying planted. Thor continues, “Your only job is to guard him, and make sure he’s safe. If he opens any sort of door beyond that you should see that for what it is. You’re not there to be his friend and he’s not there to share the latest gossip of his life with you. Is that understood?”

“Of course,” Bucky says, nodding. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s alright, I just. Thought you needed to be reminded,” Thor says, opening the door.

Steve’s looking at them both as they step inside, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns back toward Clint, the two continuing on whatever conversation they were having before. 

The rest of the day carries on, and Bucky finds himself repeating what Thor told him in his head. Because he was right, and Bucky knows he was. He doesn’t even know where his resentment and jealousy had come from - he’s never really had anything like that before. Thor doesn’t bring it up again, and Bucky takes that to mean that everything is fine now. Or, as fine as it can be, he tells himself. 

Steve’s preoccupied, so he doesn’t seem to notice how distracted Bucky is. He barely even blinks when Peter accidentally addresses him as Steve, after which Clint practically drags him out of the room.

Sam’s just leaving, after being told by Steve that asking out that girl from the kitchens is a very bad idea. He tells Bucky he’s ready for his run after that.

It’s colder out now, their breath coming out in puffs that Bucky can see where he’s keeping up with Steve. His metal arm gets more difficult to move in the colder air but not impossible, something Bucky’s gotten used to by now. 

Steve’s quiet, all the way up to Bucky walking him back to his quarters. He hesitates and Bucky waits, unsure of what it is Steve’s wants to tell him.

“Peggy and I met back when I was in colleges,” he starts, his gaze fixated on Bucky. “We started dating my senior year in college - and we were pretty serious, until I moved to DC to start my political career. She said she wanted to stay in California and start a career of her own, so I went. Eventually, through her job, she ended up back in DC, and we started seeing more of each other. We fell back into dating again because it was so easy for us, I guess. She was the only other person I’d dated for more than a couple of weeks at a time, and it was the same when she came back.”

“Sir, you don’t have to -”

“No, I want to,” Steve tells Bucky, waving a dismissive hand. “We dated through my campaign, and my first term in office, but it wasn’t easy. Nothing about our relationship was easy after that point. I wanted to be there for her but my life turned into this - whirlwind of events and travelling I could hardly keep up with it sometimes. I love her, I still do, but we both knew it wasn’t something we could keep up. So, we ended it a few weeks ago - because it was what was right thing for us. She didn’t want to be written off as the President’s girlfriend, and I didn’t want my job to hold her back.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, meaning it.

“It’s not your fault. Not anyone’s fault, really. It’s just how we were meant to work out,” Steve says, smiling sadly. “I just - thought you should know, since she’s been around here a bit this past week.”

They stay there for a little while longer, and with Steve standing in front of his door Bucky can’t help but imagine him before this. Before the White House and the Oval Office, back when he was just a kid in college, trying to further his future. He looks about the same, Bucky reckons, just a bit taller - perhaps a little more broad. 

“Should get inside before I pass out in this hallway, though,” Steve says. He looks tired, and sad, and Bucky doesn’t blame him. “Have a good night, Mr. Barnes.”

“You too, President Rogers,” Bucky says before he goes, hearing the door to Steve’s quarters click shut.

-

“You’re an idiot.”

“If you’re wanting to get on my good side, that’s not helping,” Bucky says as he’s pouring some coffee into his mug. 

“You can’t go around making Thor lecture you everywhere you go,” Natasha continues, clearly not letting up on this particular topic.

“Jesus, word gets around fast,” Bucky mutters. “Is there anything else? Maybe you have some suggestions for me to make for dinner tonight?” Bucky asks, adding a bit of milk to his drink.

“I have a few suggestions for you,” Natasha says. “But you’re not going to like them.”

“I know, alright? I fucked up, I know that. I don’t need you shoving your self righteous attitude down my throat too,” Bucky snaps, taking his coat from beside the door.

“It’s not being self righteous if I’m right,” Natasha corrects, still sounding irritated. “Why were you going off and being such a dick, anyway? You’ve never even met Peggy.”

“I don’t know. It was probably just a long day,” Bucky says, trying to find his keys. Multi tasking never was his strong suit and old habits die hard, apparently. Fuck.

“Well next time you feel like taking it out on Thor and Rogers, don’t.”

“Yes, thank you for your helpful tip. Can I go now? I’m going to be late,” Bucky says, getting into the driver’s seat.

“Fine. Call me tomorrow,” Natasha says.

“Fine,” Bucky says back before hanging up, knowing full well he sounds like a petulant child. He doesn’t care.

The freeway is jammed, and Bucky isn’t in the mood for anything. He’d gone home a few nights ago, after Steve’s telling him about him and Peggy and done nothing but drink three beers and gone straight to bed. Since then things had been civil between them, and nothing more. Not that that should bother Bucky because it’s not in his fucking job description for him and the President to be particularly close. 

Steve’s been having a rough few weeks, always stressed and not exhibiting any other emotions beyond that. One thing Bucky’s learned is that when Steve’s got a lot going on, he doesn’t talk. He clams up, sticking to short phone conversations and emails, holed up in his office. Tony calls his ‘hermit mode’, as so affectionately nicknamed, though Steve hasn’t warmed up to it.

Bucky forgot to get groceries last night. He swears, turning into the parking lot, reminding himself if he doesn’t get anything tonight he’s fucked. Because, according to Nat, drinking beer isn’t a dinner substitute. 

He locks his car, his coffee too hot to drink because he didn’t feel like taking a chance with whatever Peter was going to bring him today. Thor looks over at Bucky as he approaches, making a face.

“You look terrible, Barnes,” he comments.

Bucky gives him a look. “I’m flattered,” he says flatly, and Thor smirks.

“He’s inside already. Apparently got hardly any sleep at all last night,” Thor says, nodding toward Steve’s office. 

“That makes two of us,” Bucky says, and Thor clasps a sympathetic hand on his shoulder before he steps inside.

“Morning, Mr. Barnes,” Steve says his usual greeting, only looking up for a brief second from his desk.

“Morning, Mr. President,” Bucky says back. 

Steve doesn’t say anything else, uncharacteristically quiet while looking too wrapped up in whatever is in front of him. Bucky figures it’s better this way, considering they’re both functioning on a very low amount of sleep between the two of them. 

He has a few phone calls, and by the time he’s wrapping one up there’s a knock on the door. Bucky opens it to find Peter, juggling his usual tray of orders, stepping inside. Clint’s behind him, giving Bucky a knowing nod, as they approach Steve’s desk.

“Thank you, Peter,” Steve says, forcing a smile.

Clint asks him something about a meeting Steve’s got later on in the week, Peter taking out his phone a few feet back.

It’s not until they’re a little ways into a conversation does Steve pause, reading his cup. He stops, removing the sleeve and studying it silently for a few moments.

“Sir?” Clint asks, confused.

Steve focuses on Peter and asks, “Peter? Was this cup meant for you or me?”

Peter stops, looking up at Steve with a matching confused expression like Clint’s. “You, sir.”

Steve clears his throat awkwardly. When Clint shoots Bucky a look, Bucky shrugs, assuming it’s nothing. 

“Peter, I’m not sure this is appropriate. I mean I’m flattered, sure, but this isn’t something that you can really do,” Steve continues.

Clint, overcome with curiosity, moves to get a better look at the cup. When he does, Bucky can see his entire expression drop; which means it could be something very bad, or very entertaining. Or both.

Peter’s still looking at Steve, stunned and a little lost. “Do you - not want me to bring you coffee anymore?” he asks, flustered.

“I think you’re misunderstanding our relationship, Peter,” Steve continues.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake -” Clint says loudly.

He takes the sleeve from Steve, walking over to Peter and handing it to him. Immediately, Peter’s eyes widen and he looks and odd mixture of shocked, horrified, and terribly embarrassed. Also on the verge of having some sort of stroke, judging by the way he nearly topples over.

“I, um. I’m so sorry, President, sir. That was - Wade,” Peter says, his cheeks bright red.

“Wade? What’s a Wade?” Clint asks, and Steve looks on the verge of bursting out into laughter.

“He’s a barista at the Starbucks I go to, every morning. Apparently he has a thing for me,” Peter says, his entire face a deep shade of red.

“Yes, judging by this, you could say that,” Clint says flatly. 

He hands it to Bucky, briefly, so he can get a better look at it. Instead of saying ‘Warning! Your beverage is hot’ the beverage had been marked out, replaced by a ‘you’re’ hot beside it. 

“Smooth,” Bucky says, and Clint rolls his eyes. He hands it back over to Steve, who fits it back around his cup without another word on the subject.

“Sir?” Clint asks, looking at Steve.

“Tell Wade I say hi next time you see him,” Steve says to Peter, who looks mildly horrified and the slightest bit relieved as he and Clint walk out of the office. 

Thor’s unusually without commentary, though Bucky’s pretty sure he can hear him laughing just outside the door. Steve smiles a little, head bowed and going through a handful of papers. 

He barely has a chance to talk to Bucky for the rest of the day because a little after the coffee incident, Sam comes bursting through the office door, apparently having a very urgent matter to discuss with Steve.

Though they spend the first few minutes bickering about the last Game of Thrones episode (Steve has very strong ties to the Starks, Sam to Daenerys Targaryen claiming he would be “a father of fucking dragons, Steve, how dare you,” and they can never seem to agree on if they like Jon Snow or not, and if he was better looking than Rob. Sam says the curls make him far more handsome, but Steve doesn’t agree.), but once they get past that it’s a discussion on something Bucky can’t quite follow, wishing he’d finished his coffee when he had it earlier, at his locker. 

“Barnes, you a Stark? Or Lannister? Who are you,” Sam asks, glancing up from Steve’s desk a little while later. “If you answer wrong, Steve will fire you.”

“Feel free not to answer that,” Steve says. “And I’d fire Sam before I fire you.” 

Bucky pauses, shrugging. “Considered myself more of a Tyrell, I think,” he answers. “But Rob is more attractive than Jon.”

Steve stares at him for a moment, looking completely taken by surprise at Bucky’s last statement.

“You’re no help to me,” Sam says, waving a hand, the moment dismissed. “Stark said he’s a Stark. Which makes sense, I suppose.”

“It’s the name that helps,” Steve says flatly. Sam rolls his eyes, the two going over a document together.

Steve rubs his temples, exhaling slowly. His coffee was finished a while ago, but he’s left it on his desk for some reason. Sam stays a little while longer, promising Steve that “everything will be fine, honest. I have this under control.”

“And that’s supposed to comfort me?” Steve asks, and Sam grins.

“A little, at least,” Sam tells him before he goes, shrugging. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, more of your empty promises. Get out of here for your date,” Steve says, and Sam gives him a final salute before he’s out the door. 

Steve wraps things up a bit after that, saying his goodnight to Sharon on his way out, Bucky following him out for his run.

They’re both quiet on the run, which isn’t anything out of the ordinary. And when they get back Steve’s running a hand through his hair, Bucky walking him to his door.

“I didn’t know you were an avid Game of Thrones watcher,” Steve says, a little out of breath.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a fan, or anything,” Bucky says. “I’ve kept up with it when I can.”

“Don’t tell Sam that. He lives by that show,” Steve says, turning the handle on his door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Barnes.”

“Goodnight, Mr. President,” Bucky tells him, giving him one last look before he goes.

-

“Are you kidding me? Fight Club is his best movie, hands down,” Tony says where he’s standing in the Oval Office, staring at Steve, looking horrified.

Steve holds up his hands, shrugging. “I think the Benjamin Button one was better, I’m sorry Tony.”

“You should be sorry you have bad taste,” Tony says, before turning back to look at Bucky. “Do you agree with him?”

Bucky stiffens, knowing they’re both looking at him for an answer. “I haven’t seen the button one,” he answers. Steve sighs, dropping his arms at his sides in defeat. “But I did like Fight Club.”

“He’s not trustworthy on this subject, clearly,” Steve says.

Tony scoffs, “Fine. We’ll ask Sam. But answer me this, Rogers. Was he as hot in Fight Club as he was in the Benjamin Button movie?”

“Obviously Benjamin Button, is that even a question?” Steve argues.

“Barnes?” Tony asks Bucky a second time.

Bucky sighs, already tired of this conversation. “Yes, I’d do Brad Pitt. Thanks for asking. Doesn’t really matter which movie.”

Now, Tony rolls his eyes, “You are truly no help to us.”

Steve has the same look he’d had in the office the other day, when they’d all been talking about Game of Thrones. Bucky waits for him to say something, but whatever thought Steve’s in he snaps himself out of it, focusing in on Tony again. 

He changes the topic to another meeting they this week, Tony going along with it. Bucky doesn’t move, wondering if he’s possibly crossed some sort of line. But he figures Steve would’ve told him if he did, not just stare at him like he had. Bucky might be reading too much into this, he figures, since it’s clearly not that big of a deal. 

He catches Steve looking at him when Bucky glances over at his desk, before turning back to Tony. 

-

Bucky’s apartment gets broken into, a couple weeks later. 

He comes home from work one evening to find the door already open, and shit everywhere. There’s cops outside the building, and by the time he gets inside to find Lincoln, he sees Scott out in the hallway.

“I got her,” Scott says, and Bucky feels an immediate wave of relief. “Lincoln. She’s in my apartment.”

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes out, “thank you. When did this -”

“This afternoon, they think. There isn’t much beyond that. A few more on this level were broken into, so they think it was a tagged team effort,” Scott supplies.

Bucky doesn’t even know where to begin with all this. He takes a look into his apartment, a couple of cops approaching him. They get all of Bucky’s information, telling him that there isn’t much he can do tonight - except find some place else to sleep. He takes out his phone, dialing Nat’s number.

“Barnes? You alright?” she answers on the third ring.

“I - my place got broken into? I just got here from work and it’s a fucking mess, Nat, there’s glass everywhere -”

“You want to come stay here, with us?” she asks immediately, no hesitation. 

Bucky’s throat feels tight, standing in his hallway; like an exposed nerve, or something. “Yeah, if you two can. That would be great,” he says, hating how his voice is shaking. 

“I’ll get everything set up, alright? Get Lincoln and we’ll be here,” Nat says, her voice familiar and soothing. 

“I’ll be there soon,” Bucky says, hanging up. He looks over at Scott, taking a step inside and immediately Lincoln runs over to him as he pulls her close. “Do you have somewhere to stay?” he asks, seeing Scott a few feet away.

“Yeah, my girlfriend is graciously letting me stay with her,” Scott says. “She’s a saint.”

“Sounds like it,” Bucky says, still not letting go of Lincoln. 

He gets what few things are left. Clothes, toothpaste, trying not to look at how fucked up his entire place is; it keeps the panic at bay at least for a little while. He thanks Scott again, getting Lincoln into his car as he makes the drive to Clint and Nat’s place. 

He still feels a bit shell shocked, making his way up to the front door. He’s got an ongoing list in his head of all the phone calls he’s going to need to make, all the shit he has to get replaced, and how much of a fucking mess it’s all going to be. 

“You alright?” Nat asks, waiting at the door for him.

“Guess so,” Bucky says, Lincoln wandering inside. 

“The bed’s all made upstairs,” Natasha says, putting a gentle arm around him. “Clint’s just setting out a bowl for Lincoln in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Nat,” Bucky says.

“I’m just glad you’re both alright,” she says, leading him upstairs. Lincoln doesn’t leave his side once, waiting for him to sit down on the bed before she joins him, immediately settling down on his lap.

Clint comes up a little while later, him and Nat sitting up with him for a little while - trying to devise some sort of plan for him in the morning. When he finally manages to get into bed Bucky can’t even sleep, staring up at the ceiling with an overwhelming sense of dread, despite Nat telling him over and over that everything was going to be fine.

-

He can’t find any sort of solution, so the next morning when he’s trying to get ready for work, Bucky takes Lincoln with him.

She can’t stay at Clint’s and Nat’s, she never does well in new places. By the time he’d get home from work everything would be torn apart. And he can’t leave her with Scott because Scott doesn’t really like dogs, but he’s also staying with his girlfriend. Which really only leaves him with one other option, which is, to bring her to work with him. And he doesn’t have the heart to leave her at a kennel alone for the day, because she would absolutely hate that.

He gets some looks taking her through security, and when Thor sees her he stops, eyes wide. “Mr. Barnes, what are you -”

“Can I just, speak to you? For a minute?” Bucky asks, holding Lincoln’s leash.

Thor takes him into another room, shutting the door. “It’s not take your kid to work day,” he says, looking directly at Lincoln.

“I know, I’m sorry it’s just -” Bucky pauses, trying to find the right words. “I don’t have a place to her to stay -”

Thor makes a face, looking torn. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think she can stay here, Barnes,” he says slowly.

“I promise she’s really no trouble at all -”

Bucky’s cut off when someone opens the door. Both he and Thor turn around to see Steve, who’s staring at them in confusion.

“Everything alright?” Steve asks, looking between them.

“We’re just working something out, it shouldn’t be too long -” Thor starts, but he stops when Steve sees Lincoln.

“Who’s this?” he asks.

Bucky swallows, “This is my dog, Lincoln.”

Steve takes a step toward her, and Bucky has no idea how to read the expression on his face as he approaches them. He pauses, looking at Bucky and asks, “May I?”

Bucky nods because Steve, by some small miracle he doesn’t deserve, doesn’t look at all upset at the fact that Bucky brought his dog to the fucking White House. Instead, he kneels down, petting her gently. Lincoln immediately licks his face, because she’s a huge fucking suck - and Steve laughs in response, which surprises Bucky.

“Down girl, Jesus,” Bucky says, tugging on her leash. “She just - gets excited, sometimes, sorry. She’s harmless though.”

Steve doesn’t look at all bothered, continuing to pet her. “You never told me you had a dog, Mr. Barnes,” he says.

“She never came up in conversation,” Bucky says. Thor’s quiet, looking mildly concerned at the scene in front of him; but also as if he should’ve seen this coming, watching Steve and Lincoln closely.

“I wouldn’t have made you stay all those evenings if I’d known,” Steve says, smiling wider when Lincoln licks the palm of his hand. 

Thor makes a face, looking torn. Bucky starts, “My apartment got broken into, and I had no place to take her so I just - brought her here. I can drop her off at a kennel, I don’t want this to become an issue -”

“It’s not an issue,” Steve cuts Bucky off gently, “she can stay in my living quarters. It’s big, comfortable. She won’t be in anyone’s way.”

“Sir?” Thor asks. Steve ignores him, focusing instead on scratching behind Lincoln’s ears. 

“If you’re sure that’s alright?” Bucky asks, watching the way Lincoln presses into Steve’s side. She’s never warmed up to anyone like this, Bucky thinks. She didn’t even warm up to him this easily when he first got her.

“Not a problem,” Steve says, not even noticing all the dog hair that’s now on his probably just pressed suit. “Is everything alright? With your apartment?”

Bucky nods. “I think so. I’m making a few calls later on, but it should be fine.”

“Alright, but if you need anything else - we’re here to help,” Steve promises, “has she eaten?”

“Had a bit of breakfast. I haven’t had a chance for much else,” Bucky says.

“Thor, can you send Peter out to get some dog food and treats? She probably needs a water bowl and food dish to go with it,” Steve starts, and Thor still looks a bit stunned where he’s standing. 

“Thank you, sir,” Bucky says, Lincoln following Steve as far as her leash will let her.

“It’s no problem, Barnes,” Steve tells him earnestly, “we’ll get her all settled in before my ten o’clock meeting.”

Thor’s given up any sort of argument, taking out his phone and making his way outside of the room. 

-

“Mr. Barnes. Can I talk to you for a moment?” Steve asks before going out for his run.

Bucky stops, going over to close the door when Steve nods toward it. He waits, watching him pick up his sweater hanging off the back of his chair.

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Steve asks.

Bucky takes in a deep breath, unsure of how to answer that. “Nat and Clint told me I could stay with them as long as I needed.”

Steve’s quiet for half a minute, leaning against his desk. He’s already changed into his running clothes, holding his water bottle in one hand and asks, “You can stay here, if you’d like. I can pay you over time, and it’s closer to work.”

Bucky can’t argue that. “I don’t know, sir -”

“It’s not an issue, if that’s what you’re concerned about. Plus, Lincoln would get to see more of you,” Steve adds.

He has no idea why, but Steve seems to be pushing this, for whatever reason. Which is partly why Bucky finds himself agreeing, and also why he’s sure Nat’s thought he’s lost his fucking mind when he tells her that evening. He doesn’t blame her for the second part, though.

During the next week Bucky gets whatever he has from Clint and Natasha’s, everything feeling out of place in one of the guest rooms where he’s staying. But it’s only temporary, Bucky reminds himself; he’s not making any change of address cards for this. It’s just, for now. Until he can get back on his feet, find somewhere else to go.

Though it is a bit of a strange feeling, the first time Bucky walks through the door after a run with Steve and not going back to his apartment, or Clint and Nat’s. Lincoln’s already waiting for them, going toward them before they’ve even made it completely through the door.

He finds out Steve has something of a routine when he gets home. After his run he goes to take a shower, and when he gets out he makes himself some tea and does work for the next couple of hours. Occasionally, he’ll catch up on some television shows - Game of Thrones, True Detective, a surprising one in the bunch was Grey’s Anatomy.

He’s not all that impressed with Bucky’s binge watching of Breaking Bad and Prison Break, but Bucky ignores his commentary on it. 

It’s like he’s got to navigate himself around Steve, realizing in a very sudden way that Steve is, as Thor said, a real person. One who takes two milks and one sugar in his tea, and who never goes to bed when he claims he is.

“Sir?” Bucky asks, turning of the television and seeing the light still on in the kitchen.

Steve looks up from his laptop, eyes puffy from lack of sleep. He’s wearing a worn college sweatshirt, the Princeton lettering on it faded as he leans back against his chair. “You can call me Steve, it’s alright,” he says, smiling a little.

Bucky pauses, Lincoln sitting beside Steve at the table, curled up at his feet. “It’s getting late, if you wanted to sleep,” he says after a moment.

“Unfortunately for me, this country doesn’t sleep,” Steve says, rubbing a hand along his face. “I appreciate the concern, though.”

“Alright, well. Goodnight, then,” Bucky says, giving Lincoln one last look. But she doesn’t move, looking rather settled where she is. 

“Goodnight,” Steve says after him. 

Bucky gets into his bed, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling silently. He’s been here a little less than two weeks and isn’t sure how he feels about all of it, being around Steve constantly now - always being at the White House. Not to mention Lincoln has found a new favourite, not that he blames her, but still.

He doesn’t sleep for a while. Not even when he hears Steve make his way into his own bedroom, the door closing somewhere around three in the morning. 

-

It’s a Friday evening, and Steve looks bored at his desk. If Bucky had a guess he’d say Steve is on the verge of falling asleep at it, not touching any of the work Sharon left on his desk earlier this morning.

“He still awake?” Thor asks.

“Barely,” Bucky says back, and Thor scoffs.

Tony’s gone on some event, and Sam’s too busy being distracted by his apparently new girlfriend, Claire, which leaves Steve at his desk looking like he’s wasting away. He’s got a stack of things to sign that he’s clearly refusing to do, but Bucky has no say in what he gets done in a day or not.

The cup Peter had given him a few weeks ago is still on his desk, holding a few pens. According to Clint he’s texting Wade constantly, and he’s sincerely hoping it doesn’t last because there’s no way Clint’s letting him into the White House, apparently.

Natasha thinks it’s cute that Peter’s found someone. Clint, however, does not share this mindset.

There’s a knock on the door, Wanda coming through a few moments later. She gives Steve a look, approaching his desk. “Could you look any more desperate to get out of here?” she asks, immediately picking up his tie, like second nature to her now. “Your visitors are getting in here in less than minutes and you’re a mess, Steve, honestly.”

“Do you want to meet them for me? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind,” Steve says. Wanda rolls her eyes, apparently not having any of Steve’s attitude today.

“I’m sure they would mind, actually,” Wanda tells him simply, this line of conversation no longer up for discussion.

“I have a lot of things to sign,” Steve says, pointing to the far corner of his desk.

“You haven’t touched those in six hours, I doubt you’re going to now,” Wanda says, handing him his suit jacket. “Come on, now. Up, up.”

Steve sighs, standing up if only because he knows if he doesn’t Wanda will take matters into her own hands. She manages to get his tie on straight and suit jacket through his arms by the time his guests get there, Thor opening the door to let him know he’s got to leave.

“Thanks,” Steve says, and Wanda gives him a smile.

“Go out there and charm the pants off them,” Wanda says, kissing his cheek briefly.

“I’m sure that violates some form of our dress code,” Steve says, and Wanda pinches his arm before they leave.

He greets the guests at the door, smiling widely and posing for pictures. Thor shakes his head, watching him silently from beside Bucky.

“You should take him,” Thor says.

“Sir?” Bucky asks, confused. 

“To see your dog, or whatever it is you two do when he’s restless,” Thor says.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, and Thor shrugs. “We don’t do that,” Bucky defends, but he's a shit liar.

“I’ve been here long enough to know when Steve’s fucking around and when he’s working,” Thor says. “Besides, half the time you two go he comes back covered in dog hair.”

Bucky can’t fight him on that. And when Steve’s done, and looking on the verge of some sort of break down, he follows Bucky back to his quarters. Lincoln barks as soon as she sees them, whining loudly until Steve comes over and pets her. 

“So needy,” Bucky says.

Steve looks over at Bucky, letting Lincoln out of her kennel. “You sound jealous, Mr. Barnes,” Steve observes.

“No I don’t,” Bucky says, frowning.

“You kind of do,” Thor agrees.

Because Steve is a very persuasive person, and also because Bucky knows nothing else productive is going to get done today, Steve takes Lincoln back to the Oval Office with him. Thor doesn’t even look surprised anymore, waving them in as Steve goes through the door.

The rest of the afternoon goes along slowly, and by the time Steve excuses himself for the evening Lincoln’s fast asleep under his desk. He’s signed about half of the things Sharon wanted him to, which is impressive considering he’d barely touched them all day. He says his goodnight to Sharon, promising to finish the rest of them tomorrow, which she doesn’t look like she believes him but doesn’t argue anyway.

-

“Do you cook, Barnes?”

Bucky gets back from a walk with Lincoln that evening, a little while later. He sees Steve over in the kitchen, standing over something steaming in a pot.

“Not if I can help it,” Bucky says, letting Lincoln off her leash. Immediately, she walks over to Steve. “Traitor,” he says under his breath, taking off his coat and hanging it up.

“I’m making this new stew recipe,” Steve says, letting Lincoln eat a piece of meat out of his hand. 

“Smells good,” Bucky says.

Steve nods, shrugging. “How was your walk?” he asks, cutting up some carrots.

It feels weird, still, even though Bucky’s been here a little over a week, being around Steve like this. Without all the security and detail, not having an earpiece shoved in one side of his head. Just him here, like this, wearing a shirt and jeans. 

“It was fine,” he says.

Steve nods, adding something else to the mixture. “Thor and Sam are coming over tomorrow, possibly with Clint,” he says after a moment.

Bucky pauses, looking over at him. “Is there something going on?”

“We get together sometimes, have a few drinks,” Steve explains. 

“Here?” Bucky asks.

“Yes, here. We just thought you might want to join us,” Steve says.

“I’m - sure, I guess. I don’t have a lot going on tomorrow I don’t think,” he says.

“I’ll let them know you’ll be there,” Steve says, shifting his weight a little.

Bucky goes back to his room, closing his door behind him. He texts Nat, asking if she’s coming tomorrow for drinks before tossing his phone onto his bed. He can hear Steve still in the kitchen, playing music Bucky doesn’t know.

Nat texts, _Why, are you actually going?_

 _i don’t know. should i?_ Bucky asks.

_You can come, you know. It’s not some exclusive club where we stand around a fire and chant, Barnes._

_it’s weird._

_What, drinking? I’ve seen you do it before. More than a few times, if my memory doesn’t fail me._

_it’s weird drinking with him_

_Steve?_

_………..yes_

_Christ, Barnes, I’m sure Steve won’t have you fired for having a beer with him. He invited you, didn’t he?_

_yes. but i don’t know if i should go._

_If you get really drunk and start stripping like you did a while back, I’ll be sure and stop you._

_you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?_

_Not while I’m alive._ Nat sends, along with a strange, smiling emoji following it. _Just go, come on. You might even have a little bit of fun._

_fine. i’ll go._

_That’s the spirit. See you tomorrow night. And please, for the love of God, look at least a little excited to be there._

He doesn’t know why he’s so apprehensive about going for a few drinks with his co workers, but he is. Possibly because Bucky doesn’t even know how a night like this is going to go, but the larger part that he fully hasn’t admitted to himself yet, is Steve. 

Steve knocks on his door before he takes a shower, letting him know there’s some stew left on the counter for him. Bucky thanks him, running the water hot and stepping under it. So he’s going to have drinks with Steve. And Thor, and Sam, and possibly Clint and Natasha. It’ll be fine, Bucky tells himself as he washes his hair. There’s absolutely nothing he should be concerned over.

He stands in there a little longer than usual, steam fogging up the mirror as he dries himself off. By the time Bucky goes into the kitchen Steve isn’t there, Lincoln curled up on the couch as he joins her, the bowl of stew resting in his lap.

It’s good. He makes a note to tell Steve that later, Lincoln’s head in his lap where he’s trying to get through another episode of Breaking Bad. 

He rinses his bowl, putting it into the dishwasher. Lincoln follows him to his room, since Steve is nowhere to be found and he’s now runner-up to Steve apparently.

He opens the door to his room, Lincoln immediately getting onto his bed when there’s a voice down the hall. When Bucky looks he sees Steve in nothing but a towel, with his phone pressed to his ear.

Bucky swears under his breath and is about to go back to his room, but it’s too late; Steve’s already seen him. He hangs up his call a few moments later, but Bucky doesn’t say anything - just squints over at him, silently.

“Goodnight, Mr. Barnes,” Steve says, and Bucky’s about two seconds away from doing something drastic, like setting himself on fire.

 

When he gets back into his room Lincoln is looking at him knowingly from his bed. “I know,” Bucky says, groaning as he goes to lay beside her. She nuzzles him, barking and he laughs, petting her head. “I _know_ , okay? I know.”

At least they both realize how perfectly fucked he is.

-

Bucky learns that this night is a thing Steve does once a month if he can, coming back to his living quarters and finding him cooking. This isn’t a surprise, but Bucky finds platters of different foods, and the fridge stocked with the different drinks everyone likes.

Thor tells him he’s been doing it for a while now. He’ll dismiss the kitchen staff early so he can cook, and by the time everyone gets there he’s got it all arranged. Bucky picks up a piece of sliced bread, eating it. Lincoln walks over to him from the living room, and when she stares up at him Bucky gives her a piece of meat from another tray because he’s a huge suck.

“Good girl,” he says to her, hearing Steve swear from the next room.

“Everything alright?” Bucky asks. Steve turns to look at him.

“Yeah, it’s just - a minor crisis concerning chili,” Steve says. He looks good, wearing a pair of black jeans and a grey shirt that’s tighter than normal, paired with a flannel shirt; Bucky tries not to stare too much. “How was the rest of your day?”

His hair’s a mess, a bit of stubble dotting his jawline, and Bucky knows he’s very blatantly staring now. He looks over at where Steve’s wiping up a bit of tomato sauce, the rest of the kitchen still intact, which is good at least, Bucky thinks absently.

“It was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary,” Bucky says. “Do you need some help?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, no, I’m fine. Everyone should be here soon,” he says, and Bucky doesn’t think it’s the right time to argue him on that. “I didn’t know what you drank so I got a bit of everything.”

“I can see that,” Bucky says, opening the fridge. 

Steve smirks, making a face. “Don’t drink the strawberry wine. That’s Sam’s.”

Bucky snorts, “Oh my God.” 

“What, a man can’t enjoy a good strawberry wine now and again?” Steve asks, putting some kind of loaf into the oven.

“Sam’s welcome to drink whatever kind of alcohol he enjoys best,” Bucky says.

“Very diplomatic answer,” Steve says, raising an eyebrow at him. Lincoln’s once again settled beside Steve in the kitchen, chewing on a toy at his feet. 

Bucky gets shooed from the room soon enough, taking another piece of bread as he checks his phone. Natasha and Clint are on their way, according to his last text from Clint, though he doubts they’ll be on time. That would be very uncharacteristic of them if they were.

He takes a bottle from the fridge, some kind of generic beer he doesn’t care to remember the name of, getting the top off. He’s oddly nervous, like he’s at some over the top party with different kinds of cheese and beer.

Thor knocks on the door a little before eight, carrying what looks to be enough ice cream for an army when Bucky lets him inside. He’s wearing a sweatshirt, hair pulled back as he knocks Bucky’s arm, laughing loudly when he hears Steve calling his name.

Bucky’s a little surprised Thor’s broad shoulders fit through the doorway, and when he goes into the kitchen he finds them both leaning in and looking at the screen of Thor’s phone. It’s not long before Thor shows Bucky, a picture of Jane and Rosie smiling up at the camera.

“She’s beautiful,” Bucky says, and Thor practically beams.

He’s telling a story about how he’d tried to put Rosie down for a nap the other day, when the doorbell goes again. Sam comes in a few moments later, carrying what looks to be an armful of chips.

Steve gets them all settled, Clint and Nat showing up when they’re all on the couch. Sam turns on the television, balancing a glass of wine and plate of food while doing so.

“If you all talk through this I swear to God -”

“Calm down, Wilson,” Natasha says. Sam flips her off, Clint rolling his eyes from the doorway.

“If Jon dies at least we knew he could come back from the dead once,” Clint adds. Sam flips him off in response.

Steve laughs, going to sit beside Bucky on the couch. Bucky ignores the look Natasha gives him, going to sit beside Steve.

He hugs her, smiling, “I missed you. Are you avoiding the White House now?”

“No, just you,” Natasha teases, and Steve laughs again.

“I heard Barnes is taking good care of you though,” Natasha says, leaning over to look at Bucky.

“He is,” Steve agrees. Clint snorts from beside Natasha. 

“It’s starting soon,” Sam says, pointing to Natasha and Steve without an ounce of subtlety.

“I need a drink if I’m sitting through an entire episode with Sam,” Natasha says, getting up and walking into the kitchen.

There isn’t a lot of room on the couch, so Bucky understands why Steve is pressed up to his side, but still. He smells good, and Bucky finds himself looking over at him. 

“Can someone catch me up on this season?” Thor asks, “every time I’ve tried to watch an episode I’ve fallen asleep.”

Sam glares over at him. “I’m personally offended by that,” he says.

Thor rolls his eyes. Clint starts catching him up on this season, Bucky feeling a gentle nudge in his side.

“Do you know what’s going on this season?” Steve asks.

“A general idea, I think. Jon’s back from the dead, or something?” Bucky says.

Steve nods, “Close enough.”

They all settle in once Natasha gets her seat back on the couch, Sam requesting everyone takes an oath of silence. Clint tells him that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard, and when no one else argues him Sam threatens to kick them all out so he can watch this in peace and “the way God intended it, you heathens.”

Bucky’s not all that interested, if he’s honest. Thor already looks close to falling asleep, Clint and Natasha whispering to one another, Sam scowling at all of them while Steve is still beside him. Lincoln’s at Bucky’s feet, while he’s holding his now second beer. 

They get through the episode with only a few mild disruptions, by some small miracle, and Sam seems only somewhat pleased with that. Bucky has no clue what the fuck he just watched, all of them moving to play cards at the table. Bucky opens his third drink, tipping a bit back; he’s missed the warm feeling in his chest from drinking, hasn’t really had that much since he got home. But he’s here, with his friends, so it seems like a good time to enjoy it a bit.

His head’s starting to feel just a bit fuzzy when Sam comments they need more napkins and cups, Natasha rolling his eyes and telling him he should do it himself.

“I’ll get it,” Bucky says, but Steve’s already standing.

“We’ll just - get them,” Steve says, the two of them making their way into the kitchen.

Bucky doesn’t know how much Steve’s had to drink, but he’s guessing he’s on the same track as him, seeing how flushed his cheeks are. 

He realizes, after agreeing to help, he has no idea where anything is. Steve also realizes this, motioning to the cupboard above the sink. “There’s a few up there, I’ll just get some napkins,” Steve says.

Bucky nods, following Steve’s directions, not sure what else to say when he gets an armful of cups down. He can hear Sam laughing loudly in the next room, Thor joining in. 

He hears Steve say his name, but when Bucky feels Steve’s hand touch his arm it startles him. He drops one of the glasses, and it, in turn, shatters all over the kitchen floor.

“Shit, I’m so sorry -” Bucky starts, but Steve shakes his head.

“There’s a broom in the closet in the living room, I’ll grab it,” Steve says, walking through the doorway into the next room.

Bucky crouches down, picking up a few larger pieces of glass. He can hear Steve telling everyone it’s fine, they have it under control. He stands after a few moments, the pieces of glass in the garbage. When he turns back around Steve’s there - behind him.

They’re so close, standing there; Bucky’s sure Steve can hear the way his heart is practically pounding its way out of his chest. He takes in a sharp breath, their noses nearly touching and Bucky swears he can feel Steve’s fingers brush the inside of his wrist -

“The fuck are you two doing in there?” Thor’s voice comes from the dining room, causing the two of them to immediately spring apart, as if they’d been found out.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes out, remembering how close Steve’s mouth had been to his. 

Natasha gives him a look, but Bucky ignores her, going to sit beside Clint. He resigns himself to stare at the table, opening another beer to try and calm himself down. Eventually, when Sam loses every round of poker, he announces they should watch another movie because he can’t afford to play another round.

“I’ve missed playing with you,” Thor says, putting an arm around Sam as they walk back into the living room. “I forgot how much money you always give me.”

Sam rolls his eyes and Thor laughs, all of them settling in. Thor and Sam take two chairs, Natasha and Clint opting out for the love seat, leaving Bucky and Steve on another couch. Bucky braces himself for when Steve sits beside him, exhaling slowly. 

Bucky puts one hand over the armrest of the couch, gripping it gently and hoping no one notices the white on his knuckles. Steve’s warm beside him, and Bucky presses his lips together to try and ease the tension he feels.

He doesn’t pay any attention to the movie, and when Thor asks a question Sam tosses an empty beer can in his direction. Clint snorts, Natasha not saying anything where she’s pressed beside him. Lincoln’s asleep in her bed by the television, and Bucky feels very unprepared for how close Steve is to him.

Sometime during the film Steve falls asleep, and before Bucky knows what’s going on he’s got his head against his shoulder. Bucky makes no attempts to wake him up, letting himself, for the rest of the movie enjoy the feeling of Steve leaning against him. He still can’t believe how warm Steve is, his eyelashes fanning his cheek and Bucky has to stop himself from staring.

Bucky looks up to make it seem like he’s at least trying to pay attention to the movie, noticing Natasha is looking at him again. He shakes his head, motioning to the television but knows she’s going to want to talk to him about it later. 

When the movie ends Bucky shifts, slowly, gently waking Steve up. He blinks awake, yawning into the back of his hand and his cheeks painting red when he realizes he’d fallen asleep on Bucky. 

“Sorry,” Steve apologizes, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s no problem,” Bucky says, and Steve smiles a little.

Sam and Thor say their goodbyes, Natasha and Clint clearing the table and a few of the empty beer bottles before Steve tells them to go home. They do, eventually, Clint giving a final wave. Natasha motions for Bucky to follow her out into the hallway, and Bucky does, because he knows when it comes to Natasha there’s no getting out of it.

She looks at him a few moments before saying a cautionary, “Be careful, you understand me?”

Bucky blinks, waiting for her to say something else. When she doesn’t, he asks, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re an idiot,” Nat tells him, shaking her head. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Bucky turns, just slightly, looking through the open door to see Steve collecting plates from the table. He’s wearing just his shirt now, hair ruffled from sleeping on Bucky’s shoulder and his cheeks still coloured where he’s standing in the light hanging above the table.

“Goodnight, Nat,” Bucky says.

She kisses his cheek, briefly, before joining Clint at the end of the hallway, the two waving before they go. Bucky waits a few moments, counting back from ten before he steps back inside. Lincoln’s following Steve around, and Bucky doesn’t miss when he feeds her a few scraps from everyone’s plates before putting them in the sink.

“Everything alright with Nat?” Steve asks, leaning against the counter where he’s drying his hands with a towel.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, clearing his throat. “You know how she is. Worries a lot.”

Steve nods in understanding, a silence settling between them. Bucky isn’t sure what to do, feeling Steve’s gaze following him.

“I should - sleep,” Bucky says, “think those beers hit me harder than I thought.”

Steve looks almost disappointed, but Bucky isn’t sure if he’s reading him right, his lips downturning for just a moment. “No, you’re right. It’s getting late,” he says, putting down the towel.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Bucky says, pausing in the doorway.

“Goodnight, Mr. Barnes,” Steve says, and Bucky goes.

-

He’s got a stupid crush on the President of the United States. Bucky reaches this realization when he sees Steve the next morning in the kitchen, holding his mug of coffee and reading the paper at the counter - brows drawn together.

Bucky hates himself a little bit, seeing the way Steve’s got his hip propped against the edge of the counter with his plate of half finished food, shirt undone and tie loosely hanging around his neck. He doesn’t see Bucky at first, clearly too involved in his reading.

“Morning, Mr. Barnes,” Steve says when he’s reaching for the milk for his own coffee, eating a piece of toast left in the toaster.

“Morning,” Bucky parrots back, “Thor wants to see me early, so I have to get going.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you at some point today,” Steve jokes, and Bucky forces a small laugh before he goes.

There’s a luncheon today, with a lot of press and stress weighing on Steve as he sits in his office later on. Every so often Bucky will look over at his desk to see Steve already looking at him, trying to make himself look busy once he’s been caught. 

Bucky has to get over this crush. He tells himself this for the rest of the day, because he has to get it through his fucking head.

Steve’s too stressed out to notice, and by the time he gets to the actual event he looks almost on the verge of some sort of mental breakdown, Wanda fixing his hair before he walks through the door. 

The room’s packed, people immediately turning to Steve. It’s followed by pictures and Steve trying his best to make his rounds, shaking hands and engaging as many people as he can in the time he’s got. 

Bucky and Thor follow behind him, as they usually do, keeping their respectable distance.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Bucky looks to see a woman talking to him, a pen tucked behind her ear and recording device in her hand, staring up at him.

“The President’s making his rounds, I’m sure he’ll come to you -”

“No, I had a few questions for you, actually,” she interrupts him.

“Me?” Bucky asks, confused.

“Yes, you. Are you not James Barnes? One of the top security for the President?” she asks. 

“Yes,” Bucky answers.

“I’m Allison, and I’m a reporter,” she starts. He should’ve realized by the name badge she has on, Bucky thinks briefly. “Ever since I read about you I have to say, I’ve been very curious to meet you,” she says, shaking his hand. 

“Right,” Bucky says, still a bit stunned.

“Do you have a few minutes for some questions?” Allison asks.

“Barnes, stop flirting and get over here,” Thor says into Bucky’s ear.

“Maybe later,” Bucky says to Allison.

But Allison doesn’t seem bothered. “Of course. You have quite the demanding job,” she says.

“Something like that,” Bucky agrees before getting his way through the crowd and back to where Steve is standing, people pushing in around him. 

The rest of the lunch goes off without any major issues, besides Tony apparently spilling some kind of sauce on his new, expensive shirt. He tells Steve this on the way back to the Oval Office, asking Peter to look up some kind of remedy he can use to combat it.

Steve shakes his head, waiting until everyone’s inside before nodding at Bucky to close the door behind them. 

Peter apparently finds something for Tony, the two crowding around his phone as Clint hands Steve a file. It’s a list of interviews he has coming up, along with a schedule for when King T’Challa arrives next week Clint explains, and Steve nods along silently. 

Tony puts in a request for some club soda, Peter looking skeptical from beside him, but doesn’t comment on it. They have a bit of time before Steve’s got a meeting with congress, walking over to Bucky while Clint and Peter try to help Tony with his club soda stain removal. Which, by the looks of things, isn’t going as hoped.

“Do you think we could get out of here?” Steve asks, standing in front of Bucky.

“Sir?” Bucky asks.

“I just - need to get some air, and some food. We can take Lincoln and walk around for a bit,” Steve suggests.

Bucky can see the tension on Steve’s face, his shoulders tight and wringing his hands together. “That should be fine,” he says, ignoring Thor’s scoffing in his ears. 

Once Tony’s situation is taken care of Steve and Bucky get Lincoln from his living quarters, making their way outside. They aren’t gone for very long - Steve wearing a jacket with the hood pulled over his head, getting some food at a small sandwich shop. 

“Did you know that girl you were talking to?” Steve asks on their way back, holding onto Lincoln’s leash as she walks in front of him.

Bucky looks over at him. “No, I didn’t. Told me she was a reporter, or something. Wanted to ask me a few questions,” he answers.

Steve hums, not saying anything else on the subject when they get back to the White House. He seems off, barely even looking at Bucky when they make their way back to the Oval Office again. 

“Bucky, there’s someone here who wants to see you,” Thor tells him through his earpiece.

“Who is it?” Bucky asks.

“Some reporter. Says you talked to her earlier? Her name’s Allison,” Thor says.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Bucky tells him. He looks over at Steve at his desk, walking toward the door, “there’s someone here to see me, apparently. I’ll be right back.”

Steve’s gaze lingers on Bucky, as if unsure. “That’s fine,” he says, but his tone doesn’t convey that.

Deciding against asking him about it, Bucky goes, turning off his microphone and Thor taking his place inside with Steve. When he gets out Clint’s waiting for him, putting his phone away.

“Remind me who this girl is again?” Clint asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Met her earlier, at the lunch. She said she wanted to talk to me after, but I didn’t think she was serious,” Bucky says, shrugging.

“Apparently,” Clint says flatly, turning a corner.

Allison’s waiting for him at the end of the hall, the two of them approaching. “I’ll just - give you two a minute,” Clint says, going into his office.

Bucky takes in a deep breath, Allison tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. “Did you enjoy the rest of the lunch?” Bucky asks, knowing full well how idiotic that question is.

“It was fine,” Allison answers. “I’m sure we don’t have a lot of time, Mr. Barnes, so I won’t take up much of it.”

Bucky watches her, unsure of what else to say. When he’s quiet she continues, “I just wanted to see if you were free, tonight.”

He just about chokes on nothing. From the open door to Clint’s office, he can hear him stifle something similar to a surprised sound, terribly masked by a cough.

“I should be free,” Bucky says. “Why?”

“I thought we could go out, get some drinks. I could ask you some questions, you could ask me some,” Allison says.

“Like a date?” Bucky asks. God, he hasn’t been on a date in so long.

“If you want specific terminology, then yes. A date,” Allison clarifies easily.

Christ. “Christ,” Bucky says, mostly to himself. “I mean, sure?”

She’s here, and clearly very interested in him, so she could prove to be a good distraction from his newly found, very embarrassing crush on Steve. So he finds himself saying yes, telling her to meet him here when he’s off, and she agree’s.

When she goes Clint comes back to his door, giving Bucky a look.

“What?” Bucky asks defensively.

“Nothing,” Clint says, smirking. “Nat was right.”

“Right about what,” Bucky snaps, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re an idiot.” Clint says, giving him a final nod before Bucky heads back to Steve’s office, not wanting to say another word on the subject.

-

Steve is unusually quiet for the rest of the day, barely saying two words to Bucky when he goes after their run. Bucky tells him he’s got something to do, and that’s the end of the conversation before Steve goes back inside.

He meets Allison at some local bar Bucky’s never been too, finding her sitting at a booth. Natasha texted him while he was on his way, and he’d read it in the parking lot on his way inside.

_Heard you have a date tonight?_

_you told me to be more social, romanoff._

_I didn’t mean with some reporter you don’t even know, Barnes. Don’t be stupid._

_i’m already late so i don’t have any time to fight with you right now, sorry to further disappoint you_ Bucky sends back, locking his phone as he sits across from her.

And the date is fine. It’s not exciting or life changing by any means. She gets a glass of wine and Bucky gets a beer, trying to hear each other over the loud music and other conversations going on around them. She’s nice, and her hair is done up and Bucky knows she put a lot of effort into tonight, but he can’t completely put himself in it.

She doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to talk and ask questions and Bucky doesn’t understand what the fuck is wrong with him, sitting there.

He tells himself it’s because he has this stupid crush and that he can over it, he just needs to put himself out there more. Which is how he somehow finds himself back at the White House a few hours later, walking her through the front lobby. 

They don’t make it too far, because once Bucky’s got her two steps in there’s a voice from one side of the room, “Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky turns, seeing Steve. He’s wearing a sweater and jeans, holding what looks to be his usual stack of papers, eyes puffy and tired. 

“Mr. President,” Bucky says back.

He’s stiff, looking from Bucky over to Allison, lips pressed into a thin line. It’s the closest to angry Bucky’s ever seen him, standing there. 

“Does she have clearance to be here?” Steve asks, his voice tight; no room for any kind of emotion.

“No, she doesn’t,” Bucky says, not feeling like it’s particularly wise to lie to the President of the United States. “I didn’t think that was necessary -”

“She has to go.” Steve says, and Bucky’s eyes widen, partly from surprise but also slight amusement. 

God knows what Bucky could possibly find amusing in this moment, but the silence that follows Steve’s statement means that he is being very serious. 

“Alright,” Bucky says, taking a step back toward Allison.

He doesn’t even have a chance to say anything when Steve adds, “Now, Mr. Barnes.”

“You’ve made yourself perfectly clear, Mr. President,” Bucky says, keeping his voice even. 

Steve nods sharply, not saying anything else before he goes back down the hallway. Allison doesn’t argue, following Bucky toward the door as he lets her go.

“I had a nice time,” she tells him.

“Me too,” Bucky says, though he isn’t sure if he means it. “Have a good night, Allison.”

She leans up, kissing his cheek before she goes back to her car, Bucky waiting until she pulls out before going back inside. He makes his way to Steve’s living quarters, opening the door and stepping inside. 

Steve’s at the kitchen table, not looking up when Bucky enters. Lincoln walks over at him, nuzzling his legs as Bucky pets her, clearing his throat. Still nothing from Steve, who stays sitting in front of his computer. 

“Want to tell me what that was about?” Bucky asks.

“Just following protocol,” Steve answers mechanically. 

Bucky watches him for a few moments, not saying anything else. He goes back to his room, not saying anything else, the light from the kitchen coming through the bottom of the door when he gets into bed.

He has one unread text from Natasha, _Told you you’re an idiot._

-

Over the next couple of days, things are tense. Bucky isn’t the only one who’s in on it, and Steve clearly isn’t going to let up anytime soon. 

No one comments on it, though Sam gives Bucky a look one afternoon that reads “what the fuck is going on?” that Bucky doesn’t respond to. After about a week of the two of them dancing around one another, Thor asks Bucky out into the hallway one evening, just before Steve’s run.

“Everything alright?” Bucky asks.

Thor sighs, pulling his hair back as he gives Bucky a look. “We should talk about Steve,” he starts, and Bucky braces himself. 

“What about him?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Barnes,” Thor says. “Anyone can see you two are in some kind of - fight.”

“Fight’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Bucky argues.

Thor rolls his eyes, “A disagreement, then.”

“That’s better,” Bucky says back.

“I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but Steve doesn’t get over things quickly,” Thor starts. “Especially when it’s something that concerns those closest to him.”

“Right,” Bucky says flatly.

“Fix whatever is going on between you and Rogers,” Thor says, no longer trying to be subtle about it, “because you have to see him every day for a while in your foreseeable future.”

Bucky sighs, knowing he’s right. Thor also knows he’s right, judging by the look on his face. 

“Fine,” Bucky says, knowing full well he sounds like petulant child.

“Get in there and fix it, then,” Thor all but demands Bucky, opening the door to Steve’s office again.

Bucky steps back into the Oval Office, sucking in a nervous breath. Steve doesn’t look up, his face pulled into his usual blank expression where he’s bent over some papers.

“President Rogers?” Bucky asks.

Steve looks up, hearing his voice, as if surprised by this. “Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

“I just -” Bucky starts, trying to find the words. “I’m sorry, about the other night. I didn’t mean for it to become this whole thing.”

Steve’s face softens, if he’s trying to hide it or not shortly after Bucky says it. He puts his pen down, nodding over to Bucky and says, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Bucky exhales, relieved. “You’re welcome, sir.”

Steve looks rather pleased, going back to his work without another word on the subject. But things feel better, Bucky thinks to himself. And from where he’s standing he can see the smile Steve’s terribly trying to hide, neither of them saying anything else on the subject.

-

“Steve wants you.”

Bucky looks up from his food in the kitchens, Sam standing in front of him. He’s on his break, one of the few he has, because Steve has a very big conference call no one can interrupt for the duration of most of the day. Which means him and Thor have spent the majority of their time standing outside the Oval Office, trying to find ways to occupy themselves. Not that Bucky is complaining, but still.

“What, now?” Bucky asks, taking a drink of his coffee.

“Steve’s locked himself in his office. Says he won’t talk to anyone else but you,” Sam continues.

Bucky pulls a face, confused. “Lock himself in his office? Isn’t that kind of a security threat to himself?”

“He does it when he’s stressed. And today, he’s stressed,” Sam explains. “Says he won’t open the door for anyone but you.”

Bucky puts down his fork, resigning to the fact that he isn’t going to finish the rest of his food despite his best efforts. He follows Sam out to the Oval Office, unsure of what he’s going to expect when he walks through the door.

“You asked for me, sir?” Bucky asks once he’s inside.

Steve looks up from his desk, over at Bucky. He looks hopelessly stressed and upset, more so than Bucky’s ever seen him. 

“Talk to me about your family,” Steve starts, leaning back in his seat. “Your dog, where you lived before Washington, anything.”

Bucky stops, listening to him. “I’ll do that. But why?” he asks in response.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, standing from his chair as he makes his way around the desk, leaning against it. “I need to listen to something and the first thing I thought of was your voice,” Steve finally says. 

Bucky nods in understanding. “I lived in Brooklyn before I came here. I grew up there, and when I came back from my time in the army I found a shitty little apartment there. I got Lincoln and we moved in. It wasn’t great but we liked it all the same. It was loud at night, so when I couldn’t sleep I listened to whatever was going on outside my window.”

“Where did you get her?”

“Lincoln?” Bucky asks. Steve nods. “Found her digging through some trash one night when I couldn’t sleep and was wandering around, so I took her home with me.”

He goes on to talk about what he remembers of his parents, though it’s not much. How he can recall how his father used to come home from work and smoke, and after Bucky’s mom died he wouldn’t go to work - he’d just stay in and smoke all day. His father was there when Bucky left on his first tour, but he wasn’t there when he got home. 

Bucky used to have a picture of them, faded around the edges, but he lost it while on his second tour. How his mom always used to smell like roses and baking, her brown hair always pulled back and her hands were always warm when she would pull Bucky in for a hug. He doesn’t talk about his time served and Steve doesn’t ask.

Steve listens, his face soft and jaw tight. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says after a little while.

“It’s alright. None of it is your fault,” Bucky says.

Steve doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and Bucky’s glad for the quiet. He hasn’t talked that much in God knows how long, and he isn’t sure how he even managed to do it.

“Is everything alright, President Rogers?” Bucky finally asks. 

Steve doesn’t answer right away, pinching the bridge of his nose. Bucky waits, not wanting to push him to talk, the two standing in silence in his office.

“It’s like I’m just there for them to stare at while I talk,” Steve starts, and Bucky can already hear the tension in his voice. “I suggest one bill and they veteo it before I can even get the entire thing out. It’s like going up against a brick wall again and again, and they don’t want to listen to a goddamn word I say.”

His voice is getting louder, but Bucky still doesn’t say anything. He can hear Thor in his ear a few moments later, “Let him get it out.”

And Steve does. By the end of it he’s just about looking ready to throw things, now pacing in front of his desk and putting his hands into his pockets.

He’s on the verge of yelling now, the stress clear on his features as he continues to go back and forth, Bucky watching him. It’s not often Steve Rogers lets that part of him show but, as Bucky’s now learned, the feelings run very deep - enough pent up inside of him to get Steve to raise his voice. 

By the end of it Steve sits back down at his desk, rubbing his temples. “You probably - shouldn’t have seen that. Or heard it,” he says apologetically. 

“It’s fine,” Bucky says easily. “We’ll just call it even.”

Steve smiles a little, the first one Bucky’s seen on him all day. All week, even. “Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” he says.

Bucky nods, “It’s no problem, sir.”

Steve tells him to get a coffee, but only if Bucky promises to bring one back for him, slipping out the door. His phone had been ringing, Steve’s voice trailing off when Bucky sees Thor standing a few feet away.

Sam’s beside him, both of them looking slightly shocked. “Everything alright?” Bucky asks, looking between them.

He doesn’t ask if they’d heard that entire conversation between him and Steve, because he knows at least Thor has heard it. He feels oddly exposed, waiting for either of them to say something in response.

“I’ve never heard anyone do that before,” Sam says, looking at Bucky.

“Do what?” he asks.

“Calm Steve down like that before. No one’s ever been able to do it,” Sam clarifies, arms crossed over his chest. 

Bucky waits for the punchline, but it never comes. “It wasn’t anything,” Bucky says, excusing himself to the kitchens again.

Sam and Thor watching as he goes, rounding the corner and not sure how to process this, leaning against a wall and closing his eyes. The only answer he can come up with is that he’s royally, really, and truly fucked.

-

Steve’s been in a meeting all morning, and it’s not looking good. Tony’s beside him, most likely trying to do his best to make it at least a little better, but nothing seems to be helping. All Steve can seem to do is scowl from his chair and answer any questions directed at him with one word answers.

Tony gets up a little while later, pouring some coffee into his mug and leaning toward Bucky. “Get him out of here,” he says under his breath, putting some sugar in and stirring it.

“Out of the meeting?” Bucky asks, and Tony nods.

“If you don’t it’s going to get very ugly in here, I can promise you that,” Tony says.

Bucky can’t say he’s wrong. He waits until Tony’s sitting again, giving himself a few minutes. Thor’s standing on the other side of the room, and when he gives Bucky the nod of approval he makes his way over toward Steve.

“Sir?” Bucky asks, leaning over Steve’s chair.

“Is everything alright?” Steve looks up at Bucky.

“It’s fine,” Bucky says. “I just - we need you to step outside, for a moment. To deal with something.”

Tony rolls his eyes, sinking lower in his chair muttering a quiet, “Good one, Barnes.”

Steve catches on, thankfully, excusing himself as he makes his way toward the door. No one argues him on it, Thor giving Bucky one final look as they go. 

There aren’t that many other people around, Steve looking nothing short of relieved. They’re both quiet for a moment, until Steve tells Bucky to follow him. He turns down a hallway, and Bucky doesn’t bother asking where they’re going until Steve pulls him into a room, closing the door behind them.

It’s a closet, Bucky realizes with very little space between them. He watches Steve in front of him, waiting for the moment to pass. For him to calm down, or whatever he needs to do until they go back into that meeting. 

But before Bucky can even ask if he’s alright Steve takes a step toward him, crowding him against the door behind him. He’s so close now Bucky can see the stubble starting to line his jaw, his head starting to spin.

Neither of them say anything when Steve leans in, giving Bucky a way out - but he doesn’t take it. Bucky hesitates, not sure what to do.

“Go on, then,” Steve challenges, voice just below a whisper. 

Bucky doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, standing here with his arms at his side, completely useless. He doesn’t know the first thing about kissing the President of the United States, and starting in the middle of a closet seems an inadequate place to begin. 

Steve kisses him, his mouth hot against Bucky’s, and he hears himself take in a sharp breath when Steve slots a leg through his. 

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes out against his mouth, with Steve teasing his tongue along Bucky’s lower lip.

He can feel one of Steve’s hands against his cheek, the other in Bucky’s hair before Steve pulls away, cheeks red and clearing his throat.

“We should get back to the meeting,” Steve says, adjusting his tie.

Bucky just stares at him. From the way his shirt is slightly untucked, to the slight burn on his upper lip, he’s a lot to take in. Bucky feels like he can’t breathe.

“Right,” Bucky says, not sure he can form real sentences when they go back out the door.

Steve’s smiling, a little, and Bucky can’t believe what just happened. He keeps replaying it in his mind - Steve pressing him against the door, how soft and warm his lips had been. The way he’d bitten down on Bucky’s lower lip, just to get a rise out of him.

When they get back into the meeting Thor gives them a confused look as the two of them resume their places. Tony gives Bucky a thumbs up, and no one else comments on it. 

-

 

Bucky spends the rest of the day wondering what the fuck just happened, earlier in the closet. He doesn't come to any sort of conclusions because he gets too distracted with the memory of Steve’s lips - swollen and pink, all because of Bucky. 

He can't figure it out also because Steve doesn't mention it for the rest of the day. He carries on with whatever it is he normally does, and Bucky’s left staring at him from across his office. 

He wants it to happen again, is the thing; and Bucky isn't sure that it's something that will happen again. Or if Steve wants it to, or if it was just something Steve wanted to do just to try it out with Bucky, like some bizarre test. 

Thor doesn't say anything, probably because he has no idea. He leaves at his usual time, when Steve is just about ready to go on his run. Bucky follows him out, the two going on their normal route. 

Bucky’s more fucked than he thought, he thinks to himself. He managed to let himself get attached, which is something he told himself he wouldn't do. He's only supposed to be here to protect Steve, not getting something messy and complicated like any sort of feelings beyond that into this. 

It's just. He hasn't felt this way about anybody, not even before he got shipped off on his tours. Steve has an affect on him Bucky’s sure he's never felt before; and now he's not even sure if he can act on it, or if he's going to have to force himself to get over it. 

God, he doesn't want to get over Steve. No part of him is ready to give Steve up.

He walks Steve back to the living quarters, the two walking in their usual silence. When they're inside Bucky looks over at him, kicking off his shoes. 

“Goodnight, sir,” Bucky tells him, heading back toward his room. 

He stops, however, feeling a warm hand on his arm. Steve looks at him, his face more sure than Bucky’s ever seen it before. 

“Bucky, why don't you stay?” he asks, and Bucky knows he's already so fucking gone. 

“Alright,” Bucky says, his chest tight with anticipation. “I'll stay.”

It's the first time Steve’s called him Bucky. 

Steve smiles, and kisses him. It sends a rush through Bucky, a warmth that spreads in his chest at the mere press of their lips against one another. He wants this, he wants Steve. 

He kisses Bucky slower, with less urgency like before. It's gentle and teasing and Bucky all but whimpers when Steve begins to suck on his lower lip, teasing it with his teeth. 

“Like that?” Steve asks, lips still against Bucky’s as he talks. 

“Jesus,” Bucky says, feeling one of Steve’s hands settle on his waist, pulling him in. “I was thinking we could take this slow, you know -”

Steve groans, Bucky pressing him up against the wall easily. He can’t leave any marks on Steve that can be visible, he assumes at least, bringing a hand to palm Steve’s dick through his pants. He’s already half hard and Bucky nearly fucking whines when he feels it, Steve tilting his head back at the touch.

“Buck -” he manages to get out, breathing heavily.

“Is that a pen in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, Mr. President?” Bucky asks, Steve’s lower lip between his teeth as he talks.

“Fuck -” Steve swears. It’s the first time Bucky’s heard him say fuck and it’s rather satisfying.

Bucky hums, working on Steve’s pants. He doesn’t make any sounds of complaint when Bucky pulls down his track pants, grateful they weren’t his pants from earlier, in his office. He’s not sure Wanda would appreciate getting any kinds of stains on them.

Bucky gets down on his knees once Steve’s pants are pooled at his ankles, taking one look towards the door - making sure it’s closed. He pumps his hand down Steve’s dick, a bit of precome on his palm. Steve’s got his eyes closed, head still tilted back as he fists his other hand in Bucky’s hair, as if anchoring himself.

Bucky kisses down Steve’s stomach, still working on pumping his dick to get it hard enough, moving down to press his lips to the inside of Steve’s thigh when Bucky hears him swear again. He smiles to himself, silently, Steve’s skin warm against his lips. 

When Steve’s hard Bucky brings his lips around the tip of Steve’s dick, sucking, which gets Steve gripping his hair harder in response. Taking that as a positive sign Bucky takes a bit more of him in, needing to work himself up to it. Christ, it’s been a while, Bucky thinks briefly to himself. He can’t even remember the last time he’d done this, probably somewhere between his first and second tour with some guy he didn’t know.

But this isn’t some dirty bathroom in some bar in Brooklyn; he’s in Steve’s living quarters, still enjoying the sound of Steve trying to compose himself but failing terribly.

He pulls off when he’s got a little more than halfway, a bit more of Steve’s precome falling onto his face. Bucky wipes it off with the back of his hand, bracing his hands on Steve’s thighs as he takes him in again. By the time he’s able to take all of Steve in his mouth Bucky’s sure he won’t be long now, feeling his own dick hard against his leg.

 

But fuck, Steve looks good; with his cheeks red and panting for _more, more, more, Bucky please,_ he can’t take his eyes off him. 

He doesn’t pull off when Steve comes, swallowing before he manages to pull himself back onto his feet. Steve’s still coming down, pliant and warm when Bucky kisses him, pressing their foreheads together. He presses another kiss to Steve’s chin, his cheeks, where his eyebrows meet; any part of him Bucky can reach with his lips.

“You have to sleep,” Bucky says.

Steve makes a face, squinting at him. “I’m perfectly capable of deciding when I sleep,” he says.

“You need your beauty sleep, Mr. President,” Bucky says back. “This country needs you well rested and looking your best.”

“You're a menace,” Steve says, kissing Bucky again. 

Bucky doesn't argue him on it, the two of them making their way down to Steve’s room. “You'll have to buy me dinner first,” Bucky says, motioning past the door.

Steve smirks, his lips still soft and warm and Bucky knows if he doesn't stop now he won't be able too, taking a step back. 

“Goodnight Bucky,” Steve says, watching him from his doorway. 

“Goodnight Steve,” Bucky says back, hearing his door finally close. 

Bucky gets himself off in his shower before bed, slowly jerking himself off with his hand - his forehead resting against the tile. He bites his lower lip to hold back from letting out any sounds, turning off the water a little while after he comes. 

He goes to sleep thinking of Steve’s lips, and Bucky can’t say he minds all that much.

-

The next day things are slower, remarkably so, and when Clint comes into Steve’s office a little after ten in the morning Steve sighs. 

“I don’t want to sign anything else today,” Steve whines childishly, and Clint smirks.

“Get out of here,” Clint says.

Steve looks at him, unsure if he can trust him. “Leave?”

“Yeah, get out of this place for once. Have a day to yourself,” Clint says, pausing before he adds, “with the rest of your security team.”

Steve glances over at Bucky, getting a second opinion. Thor says into Bucky’s ear, “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Bucky shrugs, and Clint takes that as a yes. He saw Steve this morning, the two barely getting anything done when Steve had crowded Bucky against the fridge, kissing him with half a piece of cooked bacon still in his mouth.

He can still remember Steve tasted like coffee, tugging on Bucky’s shirt. “Do you really have to wear this?” Steve asked, fiddling with Bucky’s tie.

“Don’t think Thor would appreciate if I didn’t,” Bucky said, and Steve rolled his eyes in response.

He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about how Steve’s hands had felt on his waist, fingers spread and begging Bucky closer. 

“We can’t all go out like this,” Steve says, motioning to Bucky. “We have to dress so people won’t notice us.”

Clint snorts, wishing them luck. Steve gives Bucky and Thor a few minutes to change, going to get himself something else to wear. When they come out both wearing black sweatshirts, baseball caps, sunglasses, and jeans - Steve shakes his head. 

“Absolutely not,” he says dismissively.

Thor and Bucky exchange confused looks. “Why not?” Thor asks, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Because you both look like assassins, that’s why,” Steve explains. He takes out his phone, typing briefly before putting it back into his pocket.

“I think assassins is a bit of of a stretch,” Bucky says defensively, Thor nodding in agreement.

Peter and Clint knock on the door a few minutes later, while still debating if they look more or less like assassins, or retired baseball players. Bucky thinks both options aren’t that great, Clint handing them both shirts.

“Go change,” he says, Wanda slipping into the office after him.

Bucky was given an old band t shirt, Bruce Springsteen, fitting him a little tighter than he’s used to. Thor comes out wearing a loose tank top and his sweater over it, unzipped, making a face. 

“This won’t do,” Thor says.

“Looks better than before,” Clint says.

Bucky rolls his eyes, putting the sunglasses back on. They know arguing Steve is pointless so neither of them put up a fight for their outfits to change, following Steve out to the parking lot.

“We can’t take one of our usual cars,” Thor points out.

“So, what? We walk?” Bucky asks.

“We could take your car,” Steve suggests.

Bucky pauses, keys in his pocket. “She isn’t all that great, so don’t be - expecting much,” he says, leading them toward it.

“I’m sure she’s great,” Steve encourages. God damn him and his always optimistic attitude, Bucky thinks bitterly.

Bucky doesn’t say anything else, having to go around and unlock all their doors. Thor barely fits in the back seat, looking like his shoulders are too broad and the car is far too small for him. Steve looks about as uncomfortable as he does in the front seat, not saying anything about it.

“We can take Thor’s minivan, if you’d both rather,” Bucky suggests once he’s buckled up, knowing they all look ridiculous.

“No, no. This is fine,” Steve says, but Bucky knows he’s lying.

Instead of calling Steve on his bluff he drives out of the parking lot. Traffic isn’t as bad as Bucky had been anticipating, Steve putting his sunglasses over his eyes and leaning his head back. God. Bucky’s so, incredibly fucked for him.

They play the radio, as per Thor’s request, and settle on a top forty station. Bucky can’t remember the last time he listened to anything, let alone the radio. He doesn’t know any of the songs that play, Steve directing him on where to go.

After a little while and songs that sound as though they have the same, continuous beat throughout all of them, they arrive. Though Bucky has to admit most of the songs were catchy, he doesn’t say anything, following Steve out.

It’s a little bakery, tucked in beside a large grocery store. Steve’s the first to go inside, still keeping his sunglasses on. He gets a coffee and cherry danish, Thor with another coffee and white chocolate raspberry scone. Bucky orders himself a coffee and blueberry danish, their orders coming up a few minutes later.

“Come here often?” Bucky asks, pouring some milk into his steaming coffee.

Steve shrugs, taking a bite out of his danish. A bit of icing smudges on top of his upper lip, and it takes most of Bucky’s self control not to lean over and lick it right off.

“Sometimes. More when I wasn’t in office,” Steve says. “My mom used to own this place.”

“She did?” Bucky asks. 

Thor takes his coffee black, apparently “like his soul,” as he explained to them, waiting behind Steve. There’s only two other people in the bakery with them, including the woman who served them, so it’s not like they’re in a high risk place.

“Yeah, when we first moved here. I was almost fifteen, I think. Would come in and help her on the weekends to try and make some money,” Steve reminisces, smiling a little.

They finish off their food and coffee’s, heading back out. Steve points out some other things downtown, knowing more than Bucky could ever hope to learn about DC despite his living here for well over a couple of months now. There’s a book shop they go into next, going through the shelves before going into a record store. Steve’s got his face pinched together when he looks at everything, concentrated and focused. Bucky hates that he notices the slight wrinkle where Steve’s brows meet, reading the back of something while chewing on his lower lip.

They have lunch at a little restaurant a little ways down, the small place nearly packed. Thankfully, no one recognizes them, which is a bit of a shock to Bucky. They’re all going about their days, blissfully unaware of Steve’s presence.

Steve then takes them where he used to live when they moved to Washington, a tiny apartment just above a clothing shop. He carved his initials, SR, into the brick beside the door. And, sure enough, it’s still there. 

Bucky looks at it for a moment, tracing his finger along it. He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, the two standing over by the corner, talking quietly. It still looks like his writing now, the carving, Bucky thinks to himself. Not a lot about Steve has changed he’s gathered; pretty much the same person Bucky sees every morning, in his office.

Bucky’s learning a lot about Steve he didn’t know. Like that he broke his arm when he was twelve, trying to take his dad’s bike for a ride around the block. That he hates olives, and refuses to have anything to do with them. That his mom’s name was Sarah, and when he was younger - Steve would wear newspapers in his shoes to try and make himself taller. 

He’s so much more than Bucky’s known, walking alongside him on the sidewalk. 

Their day is cut short, as they almost always are, with a text from Tony asking when he’s coming back. On the way to the White House, however, they make a stop.

Bucky isn’t really a large fan of Starbucks, but goes anyway when Steve asks him to. Apparently it’s the one Peter always goes to, according to Steve.

“So. You got my number, did you?”

Bucky looks up where he’s putting milk into his Americano with an extra shot, Thor poking the straw into his smoothie, at the barista leaning over the bar to talk to Steve.

He looks up at the younger man, pausing. “I’m sorry?”

“My number. From Peter, a few weeks ago,” he continues. Bucky tries to read his name tag.

“Warn?” he asks, coming to stand beside Steve.

“ _Wade_ ,” he corrects, giving Bucky an annoyed look before focusing back in on Steve. “I’m flattered, Mr. President, really -”

Thor gives Wade a look. “We would appreciate it if you didn’t address him like that, here, in a public place -”

“What, the leader of our country is playing hookie?” Wade asks.

“Oh, God. We’re screwed,” Bucky mumbles.

“How did you know it was me?” Steve asks, appalled, looking over his grey shirt and dark blue coat. With a baseball cap and sunglasses to match Thor and Bucky.

“Your disguises are terrible. You all know that, right?” Wade asks, motioning between the three of them. 

“We were aiming for low-key,” Bucky says back, and Wade snorts, adding, “well you all did accomplish that, didn't you.”

He continues, “So if I don't rat you all out does that mean I get a tour of the White House? With the main man himself as the guide?”

Thor sighs, resigned. Bucky sees an expression of amusement flicker across Steve’s face. “You're dating Peter, right?”

Wade makes a face, vaguely gesturing with his hands. “Something along those lines, yes. If you're looking for a specific - title.”

“Come by one evening, and I'll show you and Peter around. Deal?” Steve offers. 

Thor doesn't say anything, but has an expression that reads he knows this won't end well. Bucky agrees. 

“Are you willing to shake on that, Mr. President?” Wade challenges, raising an eyebrow. 

“I am. I'll see you soon, Wade -”

“Wilson. Wade Wilson,” he finishes for Steve. 

He gives a final wave before walking out of the Starbucks, Bucky and Thor following behind him. When they both stare at Steve he asks, “What?”

“Terrible idea, sir,” Thor starts. 

Steve looks at Bucky. “You think so?”

“Maybe. Just seems like he would be the type to burn the place down, completely on accident,” Bucky adds. 

Steve smirks, the three of them heading back to Bucky’s shitty little car. Thor walks ahead of them, and Bucky feels the warm touch of Steve’s fingers along his hand, briefly, before they get inside it and Thor has a chance to spot them. 

It’s a good day.

-

He assumes Natasha tells them it’s his birthday. The first thing that tips him off is when he finds a plate of cupcakes on Steve’s desk addressed for him that morning, Sharon claiming they were for “no particular reason,” giving him a smile and a wink before handing him one. 

“You’re so paranoid, Barnes,” Thor says when he eats one later, smirking at Bucky over the icing.

“Thanks for sharing the wealth, Barnes,” Tony adds, grinning at Bucky before he goes. 

Steve doesn’t say anything, smiling a little from his chair. Sam comes in soon after, getting himself a cupcake and saying a quick, “Happy birthday Barnes. I now know one thing about you.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything. He’s never liked birthday’s, especially when they were his own. The only time he ever really remembers enjoying one was when his mom was still around, because she’d make it a big deal just between the two of them. She’d bake a cake, and Bucky would get to choose whatever he wanted for dinner, then she’d take him out for a movie before his dad got home from work.

Now, they just seem pointless. A constant reminder every year how much older he is, and that’s a reminder Bucky can live without.

He tries to go about his day normally, even when Peter gives him his coffee with the words ‘Happy Birthday Bucky, you crotchety old man’, assumably written in Wade’s handwriting. 

“Charming,” Bucky says flatly. Peter’s face turns red before he goes, Steve nearly laughing before the door closes.

Bucky wasn’t sure if he was expecting Steve to say anything, but he doesn’t. Apart from the handshake and the, “Good morning and happy birthday, Mr. Barnes,” there’s been nothing. Not that Bucky was really thinking Steve would go out of his way to do something, he’s running a country after all.

He’s just glad the day goes quietly. No unexpected event, no surprise parties; just a few people passing and wishing him well in the hallway. Bucky’s alright with that.

Natasha calls him a little after lunch, his phone ringing as he’s feeding Lincoln.

“Hello?” Bucky answers, cradling his phone to his ear.

“Happy birthday,” Natasha says immediately. Bucky smiles, can’t help himself. “Get my gift?”

“You mean the shirt you had Clint bring by? Yes, I did,” Bucky says. He pets Lincoln before leaving the living quarters, walking back down the hall. “Was this some kind of message? That you don’t like my clothing choices?”

“Your clothing choices are fine,” Natasha says unconvincingly. 

Bucky sighs, “Anything else you wanted to tell me?”

“That dinner's at seven next Friday, and you’re not allowed to be late.”

“It’s my party, I can be late if I want too. Isn’t that how it goes?”

“Goodbye, asshole. Have a good day,” Natasha says before hanging up.

Steve’s quiet for the rest of the day, even during their run. Bucky’s not sure what to expect when they get back to the living quarters, Steve heading to his room. He stops before going down the hall, pressing a quick kiss to Bucky’s lips. 

“I’ll be back,” he promises, his lips salty against Bucky’s from the sweat on their run.

“Alright,” Bucky says, watching him go.

He doesn’t hear from Steve again until there’s a knock on his door, a little after seven. Bucky goes to answer it, seeing Steve in his doorway.

“Got a minute?” Steve asks.

Bucky stares at him before he says, “Sure, if it means you’re going to tell me why you’re being so cryptic.”

He follows Steve into the living room, sitting beside him on the couch. Steve hands him a beer, already uncapped, Bucky accepting it. 

“Natasha told me you don’t like your birthday’s being a whole event,” Steve starts, a box in his lap. Bucky listens, Lincoln curled up at his feet. “So I thought I’d save it for now, when it’s just us.”

“You trying to get alone for a reason, Mr. President?” Bucky asks, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

Steve snorts, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to get you to take off your clothes,” he says, handing him the box.

Bucky takes it, slowly opening it. He doesn’t like receiving gifts, but for Steve he’ll make an exception. Once the lid is off he moves a bit of tissue paper, seeing a book.

 _1984, George Orwell_ he reads on the cover. Bucky runs a finger over it, slowly, taking it all in. 

“You mentioned it, one of your first days here. Took me forever to find a first edition copy -”

“First edition?” Bucky cuts him off, his eyes wide.

“Yeah, someone sold it to me from Brooklyn. Took Clint and I months to find it -”

He’s cut off when Bucky kisses him, their lips warm when they meet. When they pull apart Steve smiles, sheepish, “So you like it?”

“It’s great,” Bucky tells him, meaning it. Steve’s expression softens. “Thank you, Steve.”

-

“What about that blonde, from accounting?” 

Tony’s currently sitting on the edge of Steve’s desk, the two going through Facebook profiles for most of the afternoon. Though it’s generally just Tony trying to set Steve up with someone, as he seems to have taken a liking to as an activity instead of doing actual work because “there’s no international crises, Steve. I have to do something,” was apparently a good enough excuse.

Bucky’s irritated by it. Largely by the fact that they’re sitting right in front of him, trying to find someone eligible for Steve. Every once in awhile Steve will look up at Bucky when Tony isn’t paying attention and give him either an apologetic look or a wink, whichever he’s in the mood for, as if that’s supposed to help reassure Bucky somehow. It doesn’t, and he’s still unhappy with how things are going.

Natasha kept asking him that the other night, when he’d gone over there for dinner. She seemed very fixated on asking Bucky about Steve, but he didn’t tell her. Not yet - not when it’s still new and they’re both still trying to navigate their way with it. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just not something Bucky or Steve think anyone else should really know about. It concerns the two of them, and that’s it. 

Steve still makes a habit of kissing Bucky when they get back from their evening run, his breath hot and hands drawn to Bucky’s waist. Not that he’s complaining.

“I’m going to go get Sam. Maybe that girl he’s seeing has a friend,” Tony says, walking toward the door. “Sit tight, Rogers. We’ll find someone for you before you start to grey.”

Steve makes a face, watching him go. He looks over at Bucky, leaning back in his chair and turning off his computer monitor. 

When Bucky doesn’t say anything he asks, “You alright?”

“Fine,” Bucky says back, probably a bit too sharply.

Steve nods slowly. “You’re very quiet over there,” he comments.

“It’s not in my job description to be chatty,” Bucky replies.

Steve gets up from his desk, pushing his chair in. He takes a few moments to walk over to Bucky with his usual, determined look on his face. Bucky knows it well enough by now, not moving when Steve steps into his space.

He presses their foreheads together, gently, their noses brushing when Steve exhales. “We don’t want to tell anyone yet, remember?” he reminds Bucky, running his thumb over the top of his hand in lazy, slow patterns.

“I know,” Bucky says back, defeated. “That doesn’t mean I have to like Stark setting you up with anyone that has a pulse.”

Steve smiles a little, his other hand coming to rest on Bucky’s cheek. “That’s fair,” he says in agreement.

Bucky watches him for a moment, before pressing in to kiss him. Steve’s quick to respond, licking into Bucky’s mouth as he tries not to moan. Fuck, he misses him. He spends all day with Steve but at the end of the night when it’s finally the two of them, Bucky always realizes how much he misses him. 

And when Tony comes back, Bucky’s going to start missing him again until that evening. 

Steve’s sucking on Bucky’s lower lip when his office door opens, Tony and Sam walking through it. 

“What about that other girl, Karen?” Tony’s asking, pointing at Sam.

Steve and Bucky spring apart, and not at all in a subtle way. Bucky mutters quiet, “fuck” as Steve adjusts his shirt. 

Sam stares at them, eyes wide. Tony, however, sighs. 

“You could’ve told me it was him. Jesus, Rogers,” Tony says, “I wasted all that time trying to find you someone when you’ve got Barnes over here, doing God knows what in this office when we’re not here -”

“Stark, _please_. I don’t want to throw up in the Oval Office,” Sam says, raising a hand.  
“It's like, sacred or some shit.”

Thor sticks his head in, looking a combination of smug and amused. Bucky absolutely hates him. “Everything alright in here?”

“Why didn’t you tell me Stark was coming in?” Bucky blurts out, his entire face burning. 

“That’s what you’re concerned about right now?” Sam asks, motioning between him and Steve. Bucky ignores him; it’s a skill he’s cultivated rather well.

“I was getting a bagel,” Thor says. Bucky slaps a hand to his face.

“You knew about this?” Tony asks accusingly at Thor. “And you didn’t think to tell _me_?”

“I had an idea. It’s good to know I was right,” Thor says, toasting his bagel toward where Bucky is sinking down lower against the wall toward the ground, silently suffering.

“I’m out twenty bucks because you were right,” Sam whines, slapping a twenty dollar bill into Tony’s hand.

“Right about what?” Steve asks, now back at his desk.

“Don’t answer that, I’m begging you,” Bucky says to Tony.

“Tony and I had a bet between who Steve was hooking up with in the White House. My money was that him and Murdoch had a little something going on the side,” Sam explains, “Tony said Bucky was more his type.”

“I have a type?” Steve asks Tony, raising a curious eyebrow.

Bucky wants to be set on fire. 

“You do have a type, President Rogers. Apparently for men with metal limbs and an exceptionally brooding personality,” Tony says, “luckily for you, Barnes over here fits that long list of requirements.”

“God,” Bucky groans. 

“I just call it like I see it. And, turns out, I was right,” Tony says.

“I think you’ve tortured them enough for one day,” Thor says, ushering Sam and Tony out of the room.

“Nice seeing you both, as always,” Tony tells them before they go, closing the door.

Steve walks back over to Bucky, burying his face against his neck and the two laughing in the brief silence before someone else comes in.

“It was nice to be a secret for a little while, at least,” Bucky says, nosing along Steve’s forehead.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, kissing Bucky’s temple, “it was.”

-

Natasha’s been staring at him for the past twenty minutes.

She and Clint asked Bucky to meet them at a diner downtown, a little after eight a few days later. Bucky doesn’t order anything, just a coffee, stirring it in the silence. Clint’s beside Natasha in their booth, an arm around her loosely.

Bucky’s uncomfortable. “Can you at least say something?”

Natasha’s frowning; her food in front of her is untouched. “I told you to be careful,” she finally says, giving Bucky a pointed look.

“You only found out because Tony told Clint,” Bucky argues, but it’s a weak argument.

“What if it had been someone else walking through that door?” Natasha snaps back, running a hand through her hair.

“Why are you so against this?”

She’s quiet for a few moments, contemplating. Buck waits, hands folded in front of him patiently. 

 

“I’m not against it,” Nat defends. “I just - want you two to be careful.”

“What, you think we’re just going to start screwing everything up?” Bucky asks. 

Nat shakes her head. “No, it's just. You two have a lot at stake here.”

“I know,” Bucky says. “That's something I’m well aware of.”

“Alright, then. I don't need to tell you anything else,” she says, defeated. 

She's only doing this because she cares about them both, Bucky knows that. But he also knows whatever is happening between him and Steve is just between him and Steve, that's it. 

-

Steve and Bucky get drunk together that Friday night.

It wasn’t intentionally planned, or anything, it mostly happened when the two of them were on the couch after their run - talking and opening a beer when things got a bit … carried away. Bucky’s warm all over, tilting his head back against the couch and looking at Steve.

Steve’s got a gentle hand wrapped around Bucky’s ankle, pressing his thumb in slow, careful patterns while they talk. 

“Do you like it here? In DC?” Steve asks, breaking the silence between them.

Bucky shrugs, Steve’s cheeks a light shade of red from the beers he’s had. “It’s not bad. Nothing at all like Brooklyn,” he answers.

Steve hums, looking at Bucky curiously. “How so?”

“Brooklyn’s just. A shitty place,” Bucky answers truthfully. 

Steve laughs, one of his arms over the edge of the couch, nearly touching Bucky’s shoulder. “Why did you move there?”

“It was the only place I’d ever lived with my mom,” Bucky says, “and dad, when he was around.”

Lincoln yawns from the floor, stretching her paws in front of herself. Steve leans his head to one side, still looking at Bucky with a soft expression. “But you don’t like it?”

“It’s what I know,” Bucky says. “Doesn’t matter if I like it or not, I guess.”

Steve nods in understanding, then asks, “What do you want to do, when you’re done here?”

Bucky doesn’t know how to respond, right away. “I want to live on the water. Something nice, not too over the top, but nice enough. With a deck that goes all the way around, or whatever, with all of it kind of - open. So I can hear the waves wherever I am, I guess.”

He’s never answered so many questions about himself, he thinks. 

“That sounds nice,” Steve says, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a smile.

Steve’s so soft here, like this, spread out on the couch. With no sharp edges or roughness to him when he’s doing something presidential. Outside of the Oval Office, without the stress of his everyday life; Bucky can’t take his eyes off him. 

Maybe this was what Natasha was warning him about, being careful. Steve’s complex; with layers Bucky’s seeing slowly being pulled back, revealing what’s underneath. He’s so much more than Bucky first assumed he was, finding himself being proven wrong with what he’d thought every day. Which isn’t a bad thing, just means there’s more than to Steve Rogers than meets the eye. 

And Bucky’s alright being proven wrong about this.

-

“I’m not an idiot, Barnes.”

Bucky looks up where he’s stirring milk into his morning coffee the next Monday morning, looking over at Thor standing a few feet away. 

“I never said you were?” Bucky replies, confused. 

Thor just stares at him. “You and Steve, the other day,” he finally explains.

“Christ,” Bucky mutters, putting his cup down. “You want to talk about this right now?”

“Yes.” Thor answers.

Bucky groans, putting a hand over his face. It’s not even eight in the morning and he already wants a piano to fall on his head. 

“Right.”

“Don’t be sloppy about it, you hear me?” Thor warns.

“Anything else you want to add?” Bucky asks flatly, “because I’m all ears.”

“Just be careful, Barnes. You’re dating the President of the United States, not some guy you picked up at some coffee shop,” Thor says. “Steve isn’t - the best at hiding when he’s being obvious about something.”

“Something?”

“You. Obvious about you,” Thor clarifies. “He’s not great on the whole, being secretive thing, sometimes.”

Bucky nods in agreement. “We’ll keep it quiet,” he says.

“You’re not his first,” Thor adds, a few people filtering in through the kitchens. “He has a - habit of falling for more than one person.”

He takes a drink of his coffee, not sure what to say. He can feel Thor watching him, his words echoing in Bucky’s head as he tries to steady himself. 

Bucky never assumed he would have been Steve’s first, not at all. A feeling of panic settles over his chest, as he tries to calm himself down. “I appreciate you talking to me, but we’re going to be fine,” Bucky says.

“I don’t doubt you, Barnes,” Thor says, clasping Bucky’s shoulder as they walk out. 

He doesn’t say anything when they get to Steve’s office, stepping inside. Steve looks over at him, his face soft as he smiles, Bucky forcing one back. 

He’s not Steve’s first. But he thought he was more than just someone to fill Steve’s time with, is all, Bucky thinks. 

Sharon comes by a little while later, reminding Steve that King T’Challa is on his way to the White House, and that his sleeping quarters are set up. They’ve been preparing for his visit a little over a month now, getting everything in order. 

Tony comes by his office a little before noon, giving Steve some specifics and going over some last minute details. 

The reporters are being let in, press coming in for their precious coverage. 

“Play nice Barnes, alright?” Tony says, adjusting Bucky’s collar. 

Steve is ushered out of his office. There’s chatter and bright flashes, microphones being pushed toward Steve - trying to get one word from him, one answer to their many questions. 

He and T’Challa shake hands, cameras flashing and Steve laughing at something T’Challa says to him. Bucky stands beside Thor, listening while T’Challa and Steve give their opening speeches - then moving on to answer questions. Tony greets T’Challa after Steve, shaking his hand and chatting with him while the small press junket gets wrapped up.

They pose for a few more photo’s before being moved back to Steve’s office. Tony, Peter, Clint, and T’Challa are the few who go back to the Oval Office with Steve when it’s over. Someone brings in some food, leaving it on a table in the middle of the room. Bucky stands in the back, not moving. 

He can hear Steve talking about Lincoln, with his phone out presumably showing T’Challa pictures of her. Bucky ignores the pang of jealousy he feels, watching them. It’s fine, he tells himself. It’s not something he should worry about.

“I hear you’re the owner of this beautiful dog President Rogers can’t seem to stop talking about?” T’Challa asks when he approaches Bucky, reaching out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky shakes it, nodding. “King T’Challa, it’s an honour,” he starts. “That’s Lincoln. I think she likes him more than me.”

T’Challa laughs, smiling widely. He’s warm, Bucky thinks, letting go of his hand. Steve’s standing behind him, looking at Bucky, not saying anything.

“I’m sure I’ll see more of you over these next few days,” T’Challa says.

“I look forward to it,” Bucky says.

T’Challa follows Steve back to his desk, and Bucky tries to push down anything else he feels. It’s unprofessional, and he has no real basis for it. 

The rest of the day is filled with interviews, a tour of the White House, and dinner with Steve’s team and T’Challa. They don’t leave each other’s sides, talking amongst one another as Bucky takes in a deep breath.

“You alright there, Barnes?” Thor asks, standing beside him while Steve and T’Challa talk with Sam over dinner.

“Fine,” Bucky says back.

Thor raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push it. Bucky’s resigned himself that this is how it’s going to be for the next three days, crossing his hands over his chest. He goes out with Steve for his run a little while later, neither of them saying anything.

Once they’re back in Steve’s living quarters, T’Challa says goodnight to them both, excusing himself after a long day. Steve and Bucky stand in the kitchen for a few moments, Lincoln nuzzling Steve’s side.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Steve observes, warming up two plates of food for them. 

Bucky shrugs, leaning against the counter. Steve looks amused, if anything, watching him from across the room. 

“Don’t have a lot to say,” Bucky finally says. 

Steve sighs, leaning over to pet Lincoln. “Are you jealous?”

Bucky frowns, not moving. “No,” he says.

“You have nothing to be worried about,” Steve says. 

“I know,” Bucky says.

“Were you jealous you didn’t have my full attention?” Steve asks, apparently in the mood to push this subject. Bucky stabs at a noodle on his plate with his fork.

“No,” he repeats.

Steve walks toward Bucky, leaning in to press his lips against his forehead. Bucky feels himself start to cave, Steve’s lips hum against his skin as Bucky holds his elbows gently.

They eventually go to bed, Steve kissing Bucky again before they go to their separate rooms. He listens to the sounds of Steve closing his door before getting into his bed, Lincoln coming up to join him.

-

Steve and T’Challa have a school visit the next day, along with a meeting over lunch with a number of people from Steve’s cabinet. Bucky stands where he’s supposed to, planted. 

It’s like this for next couple of days T’Challa stays at the White House. Though he and Steve seem to have no issues getting along, constantly chatting and talking with one another. The press have taken to calling them “joined at the hip”. 

Clint says it’s good press, and Steve seems more than happy to have him around. It’s like this until his last day, just before he flies out the next morning. Everyone says their goodbyes, Tony lamenting that now there isn’t anyone to “keep Rogers in line.”

Steve rolled his eyes, T’Challa laughing in response. 

After their final appearances, Steve takes T’Challa and Lincoln for a walk around the grounds. After Steve’s run they go back to his living quarters, and Bucky somehow finds himself alone in the living room with T’Challa while Steve goes to shower.

“You really care about him.”

Bucky looks up, over at where T’Challa is standing. He doesn’t say anything right away, the two of them standing in silence.

“It’s my job,” Bucky says, not wanting to give them away.

“It’s more than that,” T’Challa says. “You care about him more than being the President.”

“Are you trying to prove something?” Bucky asks, “trying to get a response out of me, to know you’re right?”

T’Challa’s face gets gentle, shaking his head. “It’s not that, Mr. Barnes. I don’t think anyone else noticed but me.”

“Noticed what?” Bucky asks.

“The way you look at him,” T’Challa answers easily. “I’m not here to sell you out, Mr. Barnes. Your secret is safe with me.”

“My secret?”

T’Challa stops, hands crossed in front of himself. “Your secret, between the two of you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, as well.”

He goes to his room without another word, leaving Bucky standing in the room, feeling stunned and found out. When he hears the water off in Steve’s shower he goes over to his door, knocking twice.

“Come in,” Steve says, muffled by the door.

Bucky turns the handle, walking into Steve’s room. He’s wearing a hoodie and his usual track pants, hair wet and reading something on his phone. He looks up when Bucky comes in, though, giving him a smile Bucky tells himself is just for him.

“Hey,” Bucky says after a moment.

“Hi,” Steve says back, stepping toward him. Bucky instantly reaches out to touch him, feeling the warmth of Steve’s hand beneath his. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, leaning forward to press his face against the side of Steve’s neck. Steve holds him there for a little while, before stepping back. 

“This week’s been a bit - much,” Steve says finally, going to sit on the edge of his bed. 

Bucky follows, sitting beside him. There’s pictures on the dresser across from them, some of Peggy and Sam - one of Thor and Tony, another of Natasha and Steve, all of them framed. He looks at them, trying to feel like everything’s settling in around him. 

He feels Steve press his lips to Bucky’s hair, lingering for a moment before Bucky says, “T’Challa found out about us.”

He sees Steve nod, lips pressed together in a thin line. “Found out? Did you tell him?”

“No,” Bucky answers him, curling a hand around Steve’s loosely. “He just - guessed it.”

“Better stop with those longing gazes across the room,” Steve jokes, pressing his thumb against the palm of Bucky’s hand.

 

He thinks about what people would say, if they knew. He knows what they would say, what they would do. What him and Steve have is so new, but also not something Bucky’s ready to share with the rest of the world. Doesn’t want to share Steve when he has him. Selfish motivation but Bucky stands by it.

“Bucky?”

He snaps out of it, hearing Steve’s concerned voice. “Sorry,” Bucky says, clearing his throat.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks, his eyes not leaving Bucky’s face. “I felt like I lost you there.”

Bucky exhales, steadying himself in the warmth of Steve’s skin. 

“I’m here,” Bucky promises, lips trailing along Steve’s temple.

-

The first incident happens a couple of days after T’Challa leaves. It starts when Steve gives a speech concerning an organization, most well known for its support of the LGBT community.

After the speech Steve received a large amount of negative backlash, which he’d been expecting, but nothing to the extent it’s reached. Clint tells him over and over he’s sure it will pass soon, but in the meantime has given Thor and the security team strict orders to be on their best at all times.

Bucky can’t believe the amount of negative responses Steve’s gotten. While there’d been a number of loud, positive supporters he finds himself focusing more on the not so great side of things. Steve tells him he isn’t going to lose sleep over them, and he shouldn’t either. And Bucky knows he’s right, he does.

He finds himself checking people more carefully, his gaze lingering on anyone around them he doesn’t know. Bucky’s entire body feels like it’s on edge, waiting and anticipating for the worst to happen. It’s fucking exhausting.

He and Steve go out for their usual run in the evening, but when Bucky finds Steve restless, pacing around the living room of his quarters, Bucky convinces him to take Lincoln out for a walk. The grounds are quiet, and Bucky isn’t expecting much when Steve asks if they can go outside of the White House.

“We won’t be long,” Steve adds, holding onto Lincoln’s leash. 

Bucky frowns, putting his hood on top of his head. “Fine. We’ll take that route we always go, alright? This was your idea.”

“You agreed to come,” Steve points out, making their way out onto the street.

Everything’s quiet, oddly subdued, and Bucky tries not to feel a sense of panic over it. A few cars pass them by, the sound of traffic a few streets over. Bucky has this strong sense like they’re exposed, for the entire city to see. 

Lincoln’s more than happy to join them, easily keeping up with Steve’s pace. Bucky follows closely beside them, hands in the front pocket of his sweat shirt. It smells like Steve, the one he’s wearing. It’s worn and faded, but that’s mostly because Steve wears it more often than not - around the house, late at night when he’s up late doing work. It’s something they both share.

He spots someone walking up the street. They’ve passed him a few times on a few other walks they’ve taken, wearing a black sweatshirt with headphones on. Bucky tells himself to take in a deep breath and remind himself that they’re safe, they’re fine, Steve’s fine and safe. 

He doesn’t know what comes over him, then, when the man reaches into his pocket. Bucky moves in purely instinct, hearing Lincoln’s muffled barking as Bucky grabs both the guy's arms, pulling them behind him and tackling him into the grass of a nearby lawn of a house. 

“What the fuck, man -” the guy starts, but Bucky makes sure he stays where he is, checking to see what he’d been reaching for.

“A phone?”

Thor looks over at Bucky where they’re sitting in the Oval Office, tired and agitated. “Since when is a phone now a big security threat to our President, Barnes?”

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, bracing himself with his hands crossed on his lap. He made a mistake. Regrettably, a big one, he knows that.

Turns out the press got a hold of the story when a video surfaced, the headlines the next day reading ‘ _President Rogers’ Security: Dangerous and Aggressive?_ ’ that Bucky can say he wasn’t too happy about reading.

So naturally, that brings them all here. Steve’s watching Bucky from his desk, face soft and unsure, not saying anything.

“I panicked. With everything - happening, over the past few days, I wasn’t sure what to do. So when I saw the guy reach into his pocket I just, did whatever I thought I needed to do to keep him safe,” Bucky explains.

“Well, good. You had a man face first on grass because he was taking out his phone to answer a call,” Thor says flatly.

Bucky already feels fucking terrible about it, and this isn’t really helping his situation. He rubs a hand along his face, not sure what to say.

“It’s pretty fucked up, though,” a voice says.

Bucky looks up to see Sam talking, arms crossed over his chest and looking at Thor.

“What is?” Steve asks the obvious question.

“I mean, considering Bucky’s history -” Sam starts, glancing for a moment at Bucky before continuing, “in the army, the shit he went through. I’ve been there, I know what it’s like. And with everyone on edge this past week with Steve, he’s going to be the first to ensure Steve’s safety.”

Thor’s expression is unreadable, listening. When Sam’s finished he says, “That doesn’t change what happened.”

“Obviously not, no,” Sam says. “But I’m just saying there’s a reason for Bucky acting the way he did.”

Bucky can feel Steve’s gaze on him again, but doesn’t look in his direction. His entire body feels like it can’t stop shaking since last night, his mind in a constant state of panic and shock.

“Why doesn’t he take a few days, go on a leave,” Clint suggests. “Until most of this - blows over. Two, three days tops.”

Everyone else nods in agreement, so Bucky knows he can’t refuse. He listens as Clint tells him he’ll let him know if anything changes, and Bucky just listens. He doesn’t say anything, being excused a little while later. 

He goes back to Steve’s living quarters, not sure what else he can do. The first thing Bucky does is take off his work clothes, leaving them on the bed when he gets into the shower. He stays in there for a little while, feeling the water run down his back. 

He did this. He’s the reason this entire meeting happened, why Clint’s running around dealing with the negative media attention. All because Bucky assumed a threat when there wasn’t one to begin with. 

There just isn’t any part of Bucky that wants to know, even for a moment, what it’s like to lose Steve. When it was all happening that’s what Bucky was thinking, the only thought in his head. 

He’s exhausted, not having slept at all the night before. He doesn’t feel like he should be here, in Steve’s living quarters. It’s not his home, even though it’s where he comes at the end of every day. 

Something in Bucky snaps, before he’s even made it to his bedroom. He takes his backpack, shoving some random pieces of clothing into it. Bucky debates leaving a note, or something, eventually deciding against it.

Lincoln’s waiting for him when he gets out of his room, looking over at her from the doorway. When he kneels down she immediately walks over to him, nuzzling the hand he holds up to her. “I’ll be back, alright? I promise,” Bucky says, lips pressed to the top of her head.

His car is in its usual spot. He turns off his phone, putting it into the glove compartment and taking off onto the highway. 

He doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t belong anywhere near here; with its bright walls and people streaming in and out, carrying folders and talking on their phones. They’re all here with a purpose, a job and tasks to do every day. All Bucky does is stand in Steve’s office, and he’s doing a shit job of that.

His throat feels tight, as he swallows thickly and grips the steering wheel. Bucky can’t stop his head from spinning, foot pressing down on the gas and keeping his gaze focused ahead. 

Steve’s barely had a chance to talk to him, and Bucky knows that’s for the better. He’s already imagined countless times how that conversation will go, what Steve will finally say to Bucky when he gets the chance.

“I don’t think this is going to work out, for you. This job, me and you.” Or the possible, “You just need some time for yourself, to recover and heal.”

God, Bucky’s replayed the thousands of different conversations he could have over and over in his head, like a never ending mantra. He’s tired, he’s exhausted, and he knows that he doesn’t want to lose Steve. That’s the only real thing Bucky can keep repeating to himself through his panic, that he doesn’t want to lose Steve.

Steve might be the greatest thing that’s happened to him, and all Bucky feels like he’s done is continued to fuck it up. 

He drives. Bucky turns on the radio, the volume loud, and doesn’t let himself turn back around.

-

Brooklyn is still the same. Bucky doesn’t think anything about it is different, driving down a familiar street. It’s still a shit hole, but he doesn’t mind.

His friend Jonathan’s apartment is still the same. He gets out and hears the usual Brooklyn sounds; traffic, and yelling. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket, a hat on his head as he makes his way inside.

Jonathan’s home, sleeping on his day off from the night shift. Bucky’s known him for years now, one of the few people he would see after he’d come home. He works at a factory down at the docks, has for years now. Always tells Bucky he’s going to quit, but he hasn’t. Kind of like how Bucky always told him he’d move out of Brooklyn, except he has now.

“Where the fuck you been, man?” Jonathan greets Bucky before he’s even taken a step in the door, hugging him close. He smells like weed and stale beer. 

Bucky claps his back before stepping apart, walking further inside. The blinds are half open, the sky dark and empty bottles lining the ledge. 

“Just around, you know. Got a job in DC,” Bucky says, sitting on the end of Jonathan’s couch.

“No shit,” Jonathan says, laughing. “Like, Washington?”

Bucky nods. Jonathan whistles, twisting off the top of a bottle, “Sounds like a pretty high-end job there, Barnes.”

Bucky shakes his head, leaning back. He’s not sure if he missed it here. He’s not sure if he’s missed Brooklyn at all. “It’s nothing like that. Not really,” he says.

“What’s the job?” Jonathan asks, reaching for a shirt. Bucky snorts, watching him.

“Glad you had the decency to put some clothes on,” Bucky says. Jonathan flips him off. “It’s just - a security position, kind of.”

“Yeah? Sounds pretty good,” Jonathan says. “Pays good?”

“Pay’s good,” Bucky says. 

“Look at you, James Buchanan Barnes. Out there in DC, with a real job,” Jonathan says, and Bucky isn’t sure if he’s mocking him or not. He probably is. 

He doesn’t tell him about Steve, or his job, or anything else. He listens when Jonathan turns on the television, talking about the factory. If he hadn’t moved he would most likely be here, doing God knows what.

His phone’s still off in his pocket, and Bucky doesn’t reach for it. 

-

Jonathan invites Bucky to stay the night, and Bucky agrees. He doesn’t want to drive back to DC when things are like this. It means he’s sleeping on Jonathan’s uncomfortable couch but Bucky doesn’t care so much about that, settling in.

He hasn’t been away from Lincoln for a while. Bucky misses her, thinking a few times he can hear her feet against the floor walking in to greet him. 

They watch whatever’s on, but Bucky doesn’t really care too much. There’s stale chips left on the table in front of him, Jonathan talking about the old days. Bucky can’t believe how long it’s been, he feels like it was just the other day he was going out until all hours of the morning. A lot’s changed since then.

“Isn’t that President Rogers?”

Bucky’s head snaps up, surprisingly himself with how fast, looking over at the television screen. He licks his lips, trying to keep his expression even. “I think so,” Bucky says, shrugging.

Jonathan squints at the screen, trying to get a better look. “Fuck, that dude is built.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, eyebrows raised and nodding slowly. “I mean, I guess. If that’s something you look for.”

Jonathan smirks, “Yeah, sure Barnes...”

Bucky doesn’t add any further comment. A headline is running beneath him, _President Rogers gives his support toward LGBT shelters, a new statement says_.

He has to physically bite his lower lip to hold back his smile, seeing Steve talking into a microphone. That’s something positive out of today, Bucky thinks, leaning his head back against the couch. 

Bucky can feel his exhaustion wearing him down, barely able to keep his eyes open. Jonathan’s taking a hit outside, pacing on his small escape outside the window. He falls asleep sometime before three in the morning, when Jonathan’s back inside and passed out in his room. 

-

He wakes up with sunlight bright through the window, blinking blearily. He sits up slowly, assuming Jonathan isn’t going to be awake for a while still, getting up from the couch. There’s no food in his fridge, just a few beer bottles and an open package of now mouldy cheese.

He leaves, taking his jacket and closing the apartment door behind him. It’s as if he’s never left, awake at some ungodly hour, after just a few hours of sleep. The nightmares weren’t as bad tonight, by some small miracle, just enough to wake Bucky up with a start and a bit of sweat.

A few cars pass him by as he walks and stops at a coffee shop he’d sometimes go to, if the morning was particularly bad. He gets a cup, even though it’s shit, along with a muffin. He feels his phone in his pocket, like a weight, but doesn’t turn it on. 

He goes to a park Lincoln used to love, just a couple of blocks from his old apartment. There’s another woman and her dog, reading on a park bench. It’s strange to think this entire city has gone on without him. Not that he really ventured out when he was here, but it’s still a strange thought to him.

His mom used to take him on walks in the summer, through the streets at night when it was too hot for him to sleep. Bucky always thinks of that no matter where he is in Brooklyn, even if it wasn’t the streets they’d walk down. She always had on red lipstick and a dress, taking him for ice cream while his dad was working late. If she was still around he’s sure she’d still do that when he can’t sleep, taking him wherever he’d want to go.

Brooklyn never sleeps, and Bucky figures that’s where he got it from.

A little while later it’s too cold, and the jacket Bucky brought isn’t warm enough as he heads back to Jonathan’s apartment.

By the time he gets back Jonathan’s gone, leaving a note saying he’s welcome to whatever he wants, which isn’t much. Bucky goes back to the couch, turning on the television and dozing in and out of sleep.

He misses DC. But Bucky isn’t quite ready to admit that to himself yet.

-

Bucky’s awake when Jonathan gets back, a little before eight. He’s got a bag from a convenience store, filled with shit like beef jerky and gatorade. But he does toss a bag of chips in Bucky’s direction, saying he got them just for him. 

“Always looking out for me,” Bucky says, opening it. He laughs when Jonathan flips him off from across the room.

He finally turns on his phone when Jonathan leaves to pick up pizza, the thing buzzing nearly the moment the screen lights up. Natasha’s left him six voicemails, Clint four, and one from Steve. Bucky thumbs over the notifications, chewing his lower lip. 

There’s ten texts from Steve. Along with a number of vaguely threatening ones from Natasha, but Bucky ignores those, tapping open his conversation with Steve.

 _Where are you?_ _Are you okay?_ _Bucky, please answer me. I’m worried._ He goes down until he gets to the most recent one, _I don’t like sleeping without you here._

Bucky frowns, sighing to himself. He sends back, _you’ve slept alone before, you’re over thirty. i leave for one night and you turn into a sad teenager._

Steve doesn’t reply. A few minutes pass before Steve calls him, his name on Bucky’s screen as it vibrates in his hand. 

He stares at it, cursing under his breath as he climbs out Jonathan’s window onto his fire escape. It’s really fucking cold; Bucky forgot how relentless Brooklyn was, immediately making him shiver when he hits the answer button.

“Bucky? Are you there?” Steve’s voice immediately comes when Bucky picks up. He sounds tired and on the edge of frantic.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Bucky says, leaning against the railing. 

“Are you alright? Where are you?”

“I’m fine. I just took a little trip,” Bucky says, closing his eyes. 

“Where?” 

“Brooklyn,” Bucky answers truthfully. “Things felt a little - tense in DC.”

It sounds like Steve sighs in relief on the other end. Bucky can so easily picture him sitting on one of his couches, Lincoln curled up at his side, wearing a sweatshirt and trackpants. He gets a pang in his chest at the image.

“Can you come home?” Steve asks.

Bucky doesn’t respond right away, looking at the dim streetlights illuminating the sidewalk. There’s snow along the edge, cars spraying some of it as they drive past. He exhales, seeing the puff of breath when he does, curling his free arm around his waist.

 _Home_. The word repeats in his head, in the same way Steve had said it. He knows Steve meant to say, knows without a doubt that was the word Steve wanted to use. Bucky’s never had a home, not really. After his parents died he was brought up in the foster system, then sleeping on friends couches, then that shitty apartment in Brooklyn when he’d come back.

It’s different than when he’d been in the army, but not by much. Those beds were not made to be slept in, much like Jonathan’s couch wasn’t made for sleeping on either. He spent most of every night staring up at the bed above him, head against the pillow and counting down the hours he could’ve been asleep. That wasn’t somewhere he knew he would be for the rest of his life. 

But home is different; Bucky’s never really thought he’d found a place that fit the description. He picks at a loose thread on the sleeve of his jacket and breathes out, the air rattling his ribcage. 

“I don’t know,” he says, “I fucked things up pretty bad, Steve.”

“It’s not that bad,” Steve says, his voice soft and reassuring him. Fuck, Bucky misses him. 

“It’s a bit of a drive,” Bucky says.

“Don’t care,” Steve tells him. “Just want you here.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Bucky says before he hangs up, putting his phone away and stepping back through the window.

Jonathan gets back a few minutes after Bucky’s talked to Steve, putting the pizza on the counter and listing off a bunch of the places they could go to tonight, “Just like old times, Barnes. Me and you.”

“I - have to go, actually,” Bucky says, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “Got some things I need to take care of, back in DC.”

“Sure, right. Working man, all that,” Jonathan says. If Bucky didn’t know any better, he’d say he was frowning. “It was nice seeing you, though.”

“You too,” Buck says, giving him one last hug before he goes back out to his car. 

He doesn’t look back, driving out of Brooklyn and back towards DC. Not even for a second.

-

Steve’s in bed when he gets back, somewhere around two in the morning. Bucky leaves his keys on the small table by the front door as he makes his way to the bedroom.

He pushes open the door, finding Lincoln curled up next to Steve. Bucky walks slowly over to his bed, Steve stirring awake when the mattress dips at his weight.

“Bucky?” Steve asks, eyes puffy from sleep.

Bucky shushes him, making room for himself between Lincoln and Steve. He’s warm, the kind he gets when he’s half asleep, smelling like mint and a little like his cologne. He’s so soft, Bucky can’t help but smooth out a bit of his hair.

He nods, and he feels Steve’s smile when he kisses Bucky’s forehead. “Welcome home,” he says to Bucky, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him in.

Bucky hums, Steve kissing his chin before they both fall asleep without another word. 

-

“Why can’t we just announce it?”

It’s late, Clint and Bucky sitting in the Oval Office a few nights later. “I really don’t think you realize how badly everyone would take it,” Clint says, keeping his voice even.

Steve frowns, pacing. His forehead is wrinkled, his thumb and forefinger pinching his lips together. 

“Why would they take it badly?” Steve snaps, still not understanding. 

Bucky exchanges glances with Clint; Clint sighs, shaking his head.

“Your security personnel? Do you realize how much funding and support you’d lose?” Clint now points to Bucky, “not to mention he’d lose his job.”

“He wouldn’t lose his job,” Steve counters.

Clint raises a challenging eyebrow, “You really think that?”

Steve doesn’t respond right away, because he knows Clint’s right. Bucky’s still quiet, watching Steve from where he’s sitting. 

“I don’t want to keep this a secret,” Steve says finally.

Clint nods slowly. “I know,” he says, arms crossed over his chest. “But we can’t change it until your presidency is up, Steve. You know that. You’ve got one year left, that’s it.”

Steve looks at Clint, then Bucky. He opens his mouth to say something when there’s a knock at the door, Bucky going to open it. Natasha’s there, giving Bucky a small, sad smile. 

“Clint said he needed back up,” she says, stepping inside.

Bucky doesn’t argue her on that, following back to his seat. Steve watches Nat, leaning against the front of his desk.

“Really? You called Nat?” he asks Clint.

“It’s not like you gave me a lot of choice here, Rogers,” Clint says simply.

“So what, you’re going to triple team me now?” Steve asks all of them, looking annoyed.

“You know that’s not it,” Natasha says, her voice softer than Bucky had been expecting. “We’re trying to tell you that this is a really terrible fucking idea, Rogers.”

“I basically have no say in this,” Steve says. “Is that right?”

“If you tell the press about you and Bucky I swear to God, Steve. I’ll quit,” Clint says.

Steve knows they’re right. That’s why he hasn’t made any sort of threats, not even when he’d brought it up. 

Bucky watches him, silently waiting. Nat’s beside him on the couch, reaching over to grip Bucky’s hand for a moment before releasing it. She looks sympathetic, hearing Steve sigh.

“Alright,” Steve concedes.

“You’re not lying to anyone, by not telling them,” Natasha adds.

“It’s fine,” Steve says. “What’s one year, right?”

Bucky gives Clint a look, slowly standing. Steve doesn’t say anything, Bucky walking over to him and saying, “I got this from here.”

“You sure?” Clint asks.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Bucky says. Natasha stands, walking over to them. 

“We should go,” she says to Clint, tucking her arm around his. 

She says something to Steve Bucky can’t hear, as Steve looks up at her. He nods slowly, saying something back in response before she and Clint make their way toward the door. Clint mouths a silent “don’t fuck this up,” before they go, the door closing behind them.

Bucky and Steve stand in silence for a few moments, closing the space between them. Steve’s head is bowed, Bucky reaching out and rubbing his arms with his hands slowly. When Steve doesn’t respond Bucky puts a gentle finger under his chin, tilting his head up, “Hey.”

“Don’t need another lecture,” Steve says, his eyes tired.

“Wasn’t going to give one,” Bucky tells him, one of his hands cradling the back of Steve’s head, carding through his hair. “I’m not very good at them.”

“Right. Got that whole quiet, brooding image to maintain,” Steve mumbles.

“More or less,” Bucky says, kissing Steve’s lips for a moment before pulling back. 

Steve puts his hands on Bucky’s waist, steadying himself. His palms are warm through the fabric of Bucky’s shirt, familiar and gentle.

“It’s me or the presidency, Steve. You know that, right?” Bucky asks, seeing Steve nod. “There’s no other way to have it.”

“I know,” Steve says, tugging on Bucky’s shirt.

“If you come out about us now, they’ll fucking crucify you. And you’re a good President, so don’t throw away because you want to tell the entire world that we’re together. We can wait for that,” Bucky says.

Steve looks at him for a few moments, “One year,” he says.

“I can stick around for a year,” Bucky promises.

If Steve isn’t fully convinced, he doesn’t say it. They go back to the living quarters, Lincoln greeting them as soon as they’re in the door. Steve’s quiet, sitting on the couch as Bucky goes beside him. There’s a heaviness to their silence, Bucky’s phone buzzing with a text in his pocket, but he doesn’t check it.

When Bucky kisses him Steve takes his time with it, tilting his head back and sucking on his lower lip teasingly. Bucky slots himself between Steve’s legs, their chests pressed up against one another on the couch, with Steve under him. 

Steve’s mouth is a hot heat that makes Bucky whine, one of his hands brushing against the skin of his stomach where his shirt is riding up. “Fuck,” Bucky breathes out against Steve’s lips, Steve’s muscles jumping at his touch. 

“Should we take this somewhere else, Mr. Barnes?” Steve asks, breathless beneath him.

Bucky’s preoccupied sucking on the skin just under Steve’s ear, humming. “Will that get you out of your shirt, Mr. President?”

Steve smirks, brushing some of Bucky’s hair from in front of his face. “You’ll have to find out,” he says, sitting up.

Bucky follows him, walking behind Steve as he presses a kiss to the back of his neck. When they get to his room Steve kicks the door shut, wasting no time pulling his shirt over his head. Bucky whistles, low, Steve rolling his eyes and kissing him again.

They walk backward until Steve’s knees hit his bed, pulling Bucky with him when he sits on the mattress. He leans back, giving Bucky enough room to straddle his waist, his breath hot as he whines against Bucky’s neck, gripping his shirt.

“You’re next,” Steve says, and Bucky pauses.

He’s never had his shirt off, not around Steve. Things have never really gotten that far for him to do so, and he’s liked it that way. Sensing his hesitation Steve kisses his forehead, both hands on either side of Bucky’s face when he says, “C’mon, Buck. You can trust me.”

Bucky knows he can, is the thing, but he can feel the way his chest tightens with nerves. But Steve doesn’t push him, watching him before Bucky finally gives in. He pulls at the bottom of his shirt, taking it off. He waits, not sure what to expect.

But Steve doesn’t say anything, kissing Bucky’s chin, cheek, moving down his neck and collarbone. His lips are warm, Bucky shivering under them, now trailing along his shoulder. 

Steve is so much, Bucky doesn’t even know where to begin. He wants to learn what makes him moan, or what gets his heart racing; everything that Bucky can do to get him over the edge, with his cheeks red and asking for more. 

His dick’s half hard in his jeans, already getting uncomfortable where Bucky’s still straddling Steve on the edge of his bed. He rubs their cocks together, Steve taking in a sharp breath at the contact. Bucky catches his lips again, kissing him as he palms Steve’s dick through his pants.

“Jesus, fuck -” Steve cuts himself off, lips parted. They’re a shade of red that’s nearly obscene, Bucky biting on his lower lip.

“What do you want?” Bucky asks, breathless.

“Anything,” Steve says back, still kissing him.

Bucky swears again, trying to think coherently. “Wanna be in you,” he finally says, and Steve stares at him for a long moment.

Bucky’s about to take it back until Steve’s nodding, a little frantic. “Yeah, fuck, yes -” he says.

“Should probably get our pants off,” Bucky points out, and Steve makes a sound of agreement.

They pull apart as Bucky works on the button of his pants and boxers, leaving them on the floor with Steve doing the same from the bed. Once Steve’s are off he goes to his bedside table, opening the first drawer and looking around.

Bucky kisses the back of Steve’s bare shoulder, waiting for him. “You always this prepared?” he jokes.

Steve scoffs, batting his hand away as Bucky tries to help him. He hands him a condom, a bottle of lube in his hand. When he turns back to face him, Bucky stops, staring at him. He’s fucking beautiful, is the thing - on his bed, cheeks red with impatience. 

Steve kisses him before Bucky can keep staring, the sound of the bottle opening before he says, “It’s been a while.”

Bucky nods in understanding. “Lie on your back,” he instructs, kissing along Steve’s jaw line. 

Steve does, Bucky pouring lube onto his fingers. It’s been a long time for him too, he thinks to himself, seeing Steve spread out in front of him. Bucky’s nearly breathless at the sight of him, running his finger along Steve’s hole slowly, teasingly.

Steve arches his back at the contact, Bucky’s finger not even inside him yet as he exhales shakily. He whines when Bucky slowly pushes in, kissing Steve’s temple, telling him how good he is, how tight he is, how Bucky can’t fucking get enough of him.

He feels Steve tighten around him almost immediately, working in the first finger. It takes a few minutes, Bucky continuing to whisper to him while going in slow, careful circles inside him. Steve swears, breathing heavily underneath him, not once telling Bucky to stop; so he keeps going.

He manages to get in a second finger, Steve arching his back in response before starting to work with Bucky’s rhythm, his cock slapping up against his stomach. Bucky kisses the corner of his mouth, “You’re so fucking tight, Steve, _fuck_.”

Steve hisses, “Feels so good, Bucky, Christ -”

By the time Bucky gets a third finger in he’s sure Steve is going to come right there, head tilted back and begging for “more, Bucky, please.”

Bucky pulls out, Steve immediately whining at the loss as he rocks back to get the condom from beside him on the bed. It takes a bit for him to get the wrapper off, Steve still rocking without Bucky’s fingers inside him. 

He gets the condom on, after a bit of work, his dick hard as he presses up against Steve, pressing in slowly. 

Steve lets out a sound, no longer coherent with his fists gripping the bedsheets. Bucky kisses the collum of his throat, and Steve’s still so fucking tight when he finally manages to get inside him, Steve babbling with words pouring out of his mouth.

Bucky coaxes him through it, pushing in and out, in and out with Steve grinding down on him. Steve gets a hand around his own dick, jacking himself off. 

Steve pants out, “Bucky, Buck -” as a warning that he’s going to come. He spills out over his own stomach a few moments later, his chest and stomach flushed as he presses his head back, coming down from it.

Bucky’s not long after him, continuing and push in and out, Steve moving with him. His stomach is coiling with heat, Bucky’s face pressed against Steve’s neck when he finally comes. When he pulls out Steve still whines at the loss, kissing Bucky. It’s messy, a sloppy meeting of their mouths as Bucky peels off the condom. 

He pulls away from Steve, throwing it into the trash as he pads off into the bathroom. Bucky splashes some cold water onto his face, getting a wet towel to clean Steve up with best he can. He sits beside him, wiping along his chest as Steve looks up at him, his gaze soft. 

“I voted for you, you know,” Bucky says.

Steve looks at him, blinking slowly. “What?”

“In the election,” Bucky clarifies.

“I realized that,” Steve says, smacking his arm lightly. “I just wasn’t expecting you to say that, right now.”

“I mean, it seemed as good a time as any,” Bucky says. 

He watches Steve throw an arm over his head, laughing, “You know, most people drop an I love you after I make them come, but you admit you voted for me.”

Bucky shrugs. “Have to keep the magic alive somehow, don’t I?”

“Oh my God,” Steve mumbles, Bucky coming beside him on the bed. 

Bucky snorts, leaning his head back against his pillow. Steve looks at him and asks, “So you admit you voted Sam as my VP then, too?”

“I did, before I knew he was a pain in the ass,” Bucky mumbles against Steve’s collarbone.

“Who else did you vote for in the local elections?” Steve asks, suddenly now very curious.

“We’re not doing this right now,” Bucky says.

“Why not?” Steve asks, “you’re the one who brought it up.”

“Because we’re both naked and I’m tired,” Bucky says.

Steve frowns at him, shaking his head. “Fine,” he concedes. 

They both get under the blankets, Steve wrapping an arm loosely around Bucky’s waist. It’s not long after that they fall asleep, Bucky breathing him in before he finally drifts off.

-

“Where do you want to live?”

Bucky looks at Steve where he’s seated at his desk, unsure. “Sir?”

“After this job at the White House,” Steve clarifies, chewing on the end of his pen. “You know where you want to go?”

Bucky squints over at him, “Haven’t given it a lot of thought.”

Steve doesn’t say anything in response, leaving it at that. Bucky doesn’t press the question, assuming that’s the end of it as he crosses his hands in front of himself. 

Sam comes by a little while later, the two of them getting wrapped up in a conversation over a policy, Steve closing out whatever he was looking at on his computer to focus his attention onto Sam. 

This happens a few more times over the course of a few weeks. Steve will ask Bucky what his plans are, if he wants to have another job or travel and see the world. 

“He’s probably trying to make conversation,” Natasha tells Bucky when he comes over one night.

Bucky frowns. “He could just ask me how my day’s going,” he points out.

“If you’re that concerned you could ask him,” Natasha says, looking at Bucky over her glass of wine.

They’re sitting out on the porch, Clint inside making dinner as Bucky leans back in his chair. It’s warm enough for them to sit outside now, the sun nearly set. 

Bucky shakes his head, not convinced. Though Natasha doesn’t seem at all concerned, Clint snorts when Bucky brings it up over dinner.

“He’s having me look at all these realtor websites,” Clint says, stabbing a vegetable on his plate. “People keep asking me about it and I keep having to tell them Natasha and I are looking for something else.”

Natasha makes a face, “You’ve been telling people that?”

“You know, just Thor. And Tony. And Wanda, Sam, Sharon, and Peter.”

“So not that many people,” Bucky says flatly, getting a kick from Natasha in the shin in response. 

“Did Steve tell you why he wants to find something so bad?” Natasha asks, twirling her fork around in some pasta.

Clint shrugs, “He told me it wasn’t anything to get concerned about. Even though I’m the one going through all these fucking houses online.”

Bucky takes another drink of his beer, not saying anything. It’s nothing, he tells himself. Steve’s just in the mood to look for a new house, that’s nothing. Probably has nothing to do with him at all.

-

Clint reaches his breaking point somewhere close to two weeks later. Steve’s in his office, working on some emails when there’s a knock at the door.

Bucky opens it to find Clint and - “Scott?”

And sure enough, there’s Scott Lang, his former neighbour. Bucky pauses, Scott’s face immediately lighting up. “No shit. Bucky, how have you been? I haven’t seen you since you vacated our building,” Scott says.

And, in typical Scott fashion, immediately steps forward to hug Bucky. When they pull apart Clint has an amused look on his face.

“What’s he doing here?” Bucky asks Clint.

“He’s the best realtor I could find in the area,” Clint says, stepping inside the Oval Office.

“What do you do here?” Scott asks, still looking at Bucky.

“Make sure the President doesn’t die,” Bucky answers simply. Thor snorts, loudly, just before he closes the door.

Scott’s eyebrows are raised, looking impressed. Steve approaches them now, reaching out to shake Scott’s hand. 

“Mr. Lang, it’s nice to meet you,” he says.

Scott looks stunned, staring at Steve. “You too, Mr. President.”

He shakes Steve’s hand, possibly for longer than necessary, before releasing it. They immediately start in on conversations of houses, what Steve’s looking for, price range. Bucky is slightly horrified, not sure where he would even know where to begin on a conversation like that.

Steve seems to know what he wants, going into details with Scott as they go back to sit at his desk. Clint looks significantly less stressed as he watches them, excusing himself a few minutes later. 

Bucky still has no idea what the fuck is going on. All he gets from Natasha when he texts her about it is _Hahahahahaha. I wonder if you two can get a gig on house hunters. You two would make a cute couple._ Which isn’t the least bit helpful.

-

The house hunting continues on the side, on the few days Steve doesn’t have a lot going on. He’s completely immersed in it, going from house to house, him and Scott’s list of things Steve wants getting bigger and bigger.

This entire thing is a nightmare Bucky never thought could happen in his life, unfolding before his very eyes.

He doesn’t ask Steve about it right away. There never seems to be a good time to do it, so finally one night when they’re sitting on the couch, he asks him.

Steve looks up from his book, pausing. “What do you mean?”

Bucky frowns, chewing his lower lip before he answers. “You know. Looking at all these houses. Why are you doing it?”

Steve smiles a little, making sure his bookmark is secure before closing his book. “I don’t know. I need some kind of plan when my term is up, right?”

Bucky takes in a sharp breath, feeling like some kind of minor blow to his chest. “Right,” he repeats slowly, “a plan.”

He excuses himself to make some tea when Steve goes back to his reading, bracing both his hands against the edge of the counter. Some kind of plan. Bucky isn’t in this plan, Steve hasn’t even thought to include him in this, evidently, considering he’s looking for a house for himself. He was truly naive enough to believe Steve would be planning some kind of future with the two of them in mind, but he wasn’t. This isn’t a serious thing, it’s never meant to be a serious thing, so Bucky should have never read into it like one.

He swears under his breath, leaving the kitchen to sit in his room. Steve doesn’t follow, doesn’t ask any questions when Bucky leans back on his bed, closing his eyes.

-

Bucky doesn’t ask again, and Steve doesn’t bring it up. He instead starts counting down the days of one year from now and tells himself that as soon as the time’s up, Steve’s gone. Moving into whatever house he finds, and never talking to Bucky again.

Bucky tries to convince himself it’s better this way. He can go to back to Brooklyn, get a job and have his own life. It’s fine. 

He’s not sure how Steve misinterpreted Bucky telling him he’ll wait three years for him. But they don’t talk about it. 

The thing is, he never knows if Steve settles on a house or not. For all the time and effort put into it, Steve sees Scott less and less in the oncoming weeks. A few emails, some phone calls, then nothing. Bucky doesn’t ask him about it.

It’s a busy next couple of weeks, so Bucky has work to get his mind off of everything else. Which is more than enough to keep him preoccupied.

-

“You really suck, Barnes. Are you just off your game? Or are you generally terrible at this.” Thor grins at him from across the table.

Bucky is losing poker night very badly. He’s out with Thor and a few other of the security detail, sitting in Thor’s basement playing a round of cards. The fourth and final year of Steve’s second term has begun, well into it now as Bucky scowls at his hand.

“Maybe if you learned how to _deal_ ,” Bucky snaps, throwing his cards down.

His phone buzzes, pulling it out and checking it. He reads Steve name, unlocking his phone to read his text. 

_These candidates are shit._

Bucky smirks at his phone, typing out a response. It’s not like he’s winning this fucking game anytime soon. _i told you not to watch that. it’s going to stress you out._

_I can’t help it, they’re all incompetent idiots. They’re going to do a shit job after me._

_go to bed_ Bucky sends back, hearing Thor scoff from across the table.

He puts his phone away under strict orders after that, Steve sending a string of responses he doesn’t check. He regrets ever letting Steve talk him into going to this thing, slumping further down in his chair. 

-

There’s a global warming summit in London, and Steve’s going. Thor and Bucky are assigned with him, along with Stark. 

The flight there is fine, the press waiting for Steve when he steps off the plane. It takes them a bit to push through them, getting Steve into the car waiting for him. Steve’s beside Bucky, his head pounding. He’s tired. 

The event isn’t until tomorrow, both Natasha and Clint have texted Bucky since he got off the plane. There’s the summit tomorrow, then Steve wanted to go to the London Pride Parade celebrations on the weekend. Neither Thor nor Stark had any reasons against going, so they all agreed to go.

Thor complains he’s going to bed early, Bucky taking his suitcase into his room. His and Steve’s are connected, because Thor doesn’t “want them to keep him up.” Stark’s down the hall, so everyone’s close by.

Once Bucky’s all settled in he checks his phone with a selfie of Sam and Lincoln on a walk, Sam claiming him and Lincoln “are best friends now, Barnes. She’s mine.”

He smirks, putting his phone down onto his bed and knocking on the door joined with Steve’s. It’s a few moments before he hears, “Come in.”

When Bucky pushes open the door he finds Steve on his bed, wearing his usual sweater and shorts, watching television. He smiles over at Bucky, his eyes looking heavy as Bucky goes to lay beside him.

“Are you tired, Mr. President?” Bucky teases, feeling Steve’s fingers move down his arm lazily.

“A bit,” Steve says, kissing the top of Bucky’s head.

Bucky doesn’t say anything else, him and Steve drifting off before the show is even over.

-

The summit goes by without any large problems. Stark runs his mouth in his opening speech, which all of them were expecting, but other than that nothing else.

The event is fairly standard, as far as they go, so Bucky and Thor don’t have much to do with themselves. Bucky’s never been to something on this scale before, so it has its moments. When Steve was up on the stage talking he’s just glad it wasn’t him.

“You’re lucky,” Natasha tells him over the phone that evening, “the one year I went with them we lost Stark before we even made it to the hotel.”

Bucky smirks, because nothing about that sounds even remotely out of the ordinary, looking over to see Steve brushing his teeth, towel around his waist. He wipes a bit of condensation off the mirror from his shower, hair still wet.

“Hello? Earth to Bucky?”

“Sorry, shit, sorry,” Bucky says. “I got - distracted.”

Natasha hums, amused. “It’s fine. I should go, anyway.”

“I’ll be more alert next time you call me,” Bucky promises.

“Not sure about that,” Natasha jokes before she hangs up. 

Steve’s tired. The kind that makes him barely mobile, shuffling back over to the bed wearing one of Bucky’s sweatshirts now, a change from yesterday.

“We could still make the party,” Bucky says. 

Steve snorts against his chest. “I think I’m too old for parties,” he says.

“I wouldn’t say old,” Bucky replies.

Steve doesn’t even have the energy to fight him on it, his suit from earlier still left on the floor. Tony left for a party a while ago, saying if he wasn’t back by the morning that meant he found somewhere else to go, so they shouldn’t worry. 

“Wouldn’t the press have a field day with that. President Rogers, spends nights at home sleeping before eleven,” Steve says.

Bucky shrugs, kissing the side of his neck. “They’re not the ones who get you off, so.”

“God,” Steve laughs, shaking his head. 

-

Bucky’s never been to a pride parade before. The entire thing is packed, people pressing in, loud voices and everyone moving; it’s a security detail’s nightmare, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. 

People notice him almost immediately, taking selfies with him and yelling out questions at him. Thor just laughs, giving Bucky a shrug and mouthing, “They’re harmless.”

Bucky takes his word for it, feeling weird not being in his usual suit. Steve insisted they wore something that wasn’t stuffy, the three of them going out, Tony doing the same. He said Bucky looks more like a regular person going out like this, Steve winking at Bucky.

The press gets wind of Steve’s presence rather quickly, following him around most of the day. But he takes his time, going around and talking to people - sunglasses over his eyes and listening to anyone who wants to talk to him.

He holds a little girl who belong to a young couple, the women asking him some questions afterward. He looks comfortable, Bucky thinks; in his element. They get some food a little while later from a truck, Tony forcing Bucky to try whatever it is he’s eating.

“President Rogers, do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” 

A news reporter finds him after they eat, when a lot of the crowds have cleared. Steve nods, putting down his drink, “Of course.”

Thor and Tony wander off to where there’s loud music, Thor telling Bucky he owes him one for not being forced to go and listen.

“Did you know Pride Week was happening in London while you were visiting?” she asks first, and Steve smiles easily.

“I had been told, and I thought I would come and show my support,” Steve says. 

“How are you liking it so far?” she asks, holding out the microphone to him. “You’ve been to events like this before, right?”

“A number of them. And they’ve been good, it’s nice to get out to things like this and meet the people here. It’s been great,” Steve replies.

“And you’re happy? Since coming out? I know that was quite some time ago now,” she asks.

“Very happy,” Steve answers. Bucky watches him, waiting. “It’s good, I’m very happy I’m out.”

“Have you managed to find anyone with your busy life?”

Steve smiles again, nodding. “I’ve found someone I love very much, yes. It’s all very good,” he says, as if he doesn’t have a single care in the world.

She looks shocked for a moment, and Bucky doesn’t blame her. Her cheeks are flushed, both flustered and looking unsure of what to do next. It wasn’t the answer she had been anticipating, clearly and neither was Bucky, with Steve being so open on the subject. 

It’s the scoop of the fucking century, and they all know it.

“You heard it here first, the President is in love!” she says, grinning for the camera.

The interview wraps up, Steve thanking everyone before walking off with Bucky. Bucky doesn’t say anything, not yet - not in the open like this, but he knows he’s smiling like a fucking idiot, walking alongside Steve.

-

“Oh my God.” Clint’s staring at Steve through his webcam, mouth agape. “You really did that.”

“Did what?” Steve asks, trying to feign innocence.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Clint says, rolling his eyes. “Going out there and telling the world you’re in love.”

“Well,” Steve says, leaning back in his chair. “Should I have lied?”

“I guess not,” Clint says. “When you fly in tomorrow it’ll be everywhere, though.”

“I didn’t say who it was,” Steve says, pointing a finger.

“No, thank God, but that means you’ll be hounded about who it is for the rest of your term,” Clint says back.

“So?” Steve asks. “I don’t have much left, do I?”

Clint makes a face, because Steve’s right. “I have to go,” Clint says, “don’t do anything else while you’re gone, you hear me?”

Steve smirks, shrugging before he ends the call. Bucky looks over at him where he’s sitting on the edge of Steve’s bed.

“Did you mean it?” Bucky asks. Steve looks at him a moment. “What you said,” Bucky clarifies.

“Yeah, I meant it,” Steve answers, getting up from his chair. He walks over toward Bucky, sitting next to him. 

Bucky takes in a deep breath, looking at his hands in his lap. He doesn’t know what to say, a silence building between them.

“You don’t have to say it back, you know. I’ve been feeling it for a while, and I should’ve told you before I told some news reporter,” Steve adds.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “It’s fine, I’m not - mad about that.”

“What are you mad about?”

Bucky swallows, pressing his lips together. “I’m not mad.”

He wants to tell Steve why he’s been holding back. Why he can’t fucking bring himself to say I love you, or anything close to that. Because Steve’s getting a house without him, and Bucky knows that means he isn’t serious about them. Even if he does say I love you, Bucky isn’t sure if he can trust him or not.

“You’re not getting a house with me.”

Steve blinks, looking at Bucky in confusion. “What?”

“When you were looking with Scott, last year,” Bucky says. “You told me you weren’t looking for us, you were just looking for something for when your term was up.”

Steve doesn’t look away, focused just on Bucky. His expression is unreadable, not saying anything. Instead, he stands slowly, putting his suitcase on his bed and starting to fold his shirts to be packed. 

“Steve, I didn’t mean to upset you, I just thought you’d want me to me honest,” Bucky says, feeling panic in his chest.

He doesn’t want to lose Steve. And right now, in his room, with Steve packing and not looking him in the eye, Bucky’s terrified he’s already lost him.

“I do want you to be honest,” Steve says, his tone even. “And I’m glad you were.”

“Steve -”

“We should get packing. We’re leaving early tomorrow,” Steve cuts him off carefully.

Bucky stares at him for a moment, not sure what to do. When Steve gives no signs of relenting, he goes back to his room, closing his door behind him.

-

The flight feels long, and that’s mostly because Steve still isn’t talking to him.

Bucky doesn’t know how to read his silence, but his mind is going a mile a minute, the panic always tight in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say, how to get Steve to really listen to him when he talks. It’s just like the beginning of an unraveling, everything falling apart and Bucky’s just watching it happen.

He waits for Steve to break it off when they get back to the White House. After they get through security, Steve goes over to say something to Thor.

“I’m going to take a car back with Tony,” Thor tells Bucky, his tone serious.

Bucky freezes, “Why?”

“President Rogers says he’s got some business to attend to, with you,” Thor says.

Bucky nearly swears under his breath. It’s about to happen, then, he thinks; bracing himself. He doesn’t argue Thor on it, going with Steve to their car.

He gives the driver an address, the two sitting in the back in silence. Bucky doesn’t want to say anything, for fear he’ll make it all worse. 

They’re in the car for nearly forty-five minutes, finally coming to a stop. “What are we doing?” Bucky asks, looking at Steve.

“We’re getting out because we’re here,” Steve says simply, opening his door.

Bucky follows, mostly because he has no other choice. The driver waits in the car, Steve leading him to an iron gate. He nods at Bucky, and he opens it, following down a gravel path. Steve’s expression is neutral, walking alongside him.

The path goes on for a few minutes, until they reach a house. It’s dark blue, with a white trim, a porch wrapping around the entire thing. There’s a large tree out front, an old tire swing hanging from it. Bucky pauses, glancing over to Steve, “What is this?”

Steve doesn’t say anything, motioning up the front steps. Bucky walks up, and Steve wordlessly hands him a key, which he uses to open the front door.

It’s beautiful. With wooden floors and the place already furnished, Bucky knows he’s nearly gaping as he stares at all of it. Steve follows behind him, Bucky going through almost the entire thing. He goes through the front room, into the kitchen, a den to the left. There’s a dining area, an office, then upstairs. 

He can’t keep track of how many bedrooms there are, the master with a balcony leading outside. Bucky opens the door, stepping out onto it. 

He hears the water before he sees it, the waves hitting the sand. He can see the pathway leading to the edge of the backyard, a small wooden gate opening to the beach. Steve’s still silent, Bucky going back downstairs, through the kitchen and onto the porch. 

“Oh my God,” Bucky says, staring out at the water. 

“I wasn’t looking for me,” Steve says. “I couldn’t fill a house like this on my own.”

Bucky turns, looking at him. Steve’s face is soft, shrugging, like it’s nothing.

But Bucky can hear his own words repeating in his head, a while ago now: _I want to live on the water. Something nice, not too over the top, but nice enough. With a deck that goes all the way around, or whatever, with all of it kind of - open. So I can hear the waves wherever I am, I guess._

Bucky looks at Steve now, pausing. “You remember that?”

“You wanted to hear the waves,” Steve says, “so I told Scott that’s what I was looking for.”

Bucky shakes his head in disbelief, taking a step toward him. He doesn’t wait to kiss Steve, pressing in close and catching Steve’s lips with his own.

“You’ll have to wait a bit, until my term is done,” Steve says after a moment, pulling back.

“I don’t care,” Bucky says, pressing their foreheads together. 

Steve nods, leading him back inside. There’s a bed already for Lincoln, tucked in front of the fireplace. Bucky pauses, seeing pictures already on top of the mantel. 

There’s one of Bucky and Lincoln, one evening when they’d taken her down to the docks. Another of Steve and Lincoln, one winter morning when he’d taken her out and she’d gotten overly excited at the snow.

The one in the middle is just of Steve and Bucky, a picture he didn’t even know was taken. Steve’s laughing at something Bucky said, kissing his forehead, both of them close.

“Natasha took that, last year,” Steve says, seeing when Bucky notices it.

Bucky’s still in a state of disbelief. “We’re going to live here?”

“If you like it, then yes,” Steve says. 

“I love you,” Bucky says, no longer holding back. “I’ve loved you for a while, I’ve known for it a while, I just wasn’t sure how serious you were.”

“I’d saying buying a house is pretty serious,” Steve says, kissing his temple. 

Bucky laughs quietly, the corners of his eyes prickling with tears as he pulls Steve close where they’re still standing in front of the fireplace, holding him there.

-

Bucky’s still in disbelief more than a week later, sitting in Natasha and Clint’s living room.

“He bought you a house?” Natasha asks for the third time over the course of the evening, incredulous.

Bucky tips some beer into his mouth, “He bought _us_ a house,” he corrects.

Natasha stares. Clint, in less shock than Nat, leans back in his chair. “It’s not he asked him to elope,” he says.

“That wouldn’t surprise me, at this rate,” Natasha says, her eyes wide as she crosses her arm over her chest. “Do you like it?”

“I mean, it’s nice,” Bucky says.

Natasha narrows her eyes at him, “That isn’t what I asked, Barnes.”

“Yes, I like it. Jesus,” Bucky says. 

Word has gotten around the office, to a select few. Thor told Bucky he’s impressed they haven’t fucked this all up yet. Sharon said it was very nice, and she can’t wait to see it. Sam and Tony said it should be able to fit all of them for Game of Thrones night, but other than that, they didn’t have much else to say on the subject. 

“You weren’t so convincing at first,” Natasha says.

Bucky rolls his eyes, hearing Clint snort. “You’ll be the first to see it,” he promises her, assuming that’s what she’s getting at.

Natasha smiles, satisfied. 

-

Every year, there’s a Fall Festival on Capitol Hill, open to the general public. Thor says it’s nothing to worry about, just a bunch of people crammed into a tiny space, all trying to get Steve’s attention. Which is mostly everything they’ve been through since Bucky got hired. 

He’s got a strange feeling of dread heavy in him all day, not talking about it. He doesn’t know what triggered it, so he doesn’t let himself think on it too much. 

They manage to wade their way through the crowds, Steve stopping and talking to a number of people along the way. Clint’s talking with Sam, Peter standing beside him sneaking a look at his phone every so often. 

Bucky swallows, looking around. He sees someone in a hood, staring directly at Steve. Bucky’s never seen him before, his eyes dark and hands shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie. When he sees Bucky staring he looks away quickly, gone before Bucky has even a moment to step toward him.

“You alright?” Thor asks him, gently elbowing Bucky’s side.

“Yeah,” Bucky answers, “thought I saw something, I guess.”

Thor nods, not looking too concerned as the two trailing along with Steve. After this they’re going to spend the weekend painting the house, him and Steve, though Sam and Clint offered to help - Bucky doubts they’ll do any work if they show up.

But it’s a start. Bucky’s never had a house that he could call his own before, so he’s still adjusting to that mindset. Not that it’s a bad thing, he’s just trying to imagine himself living there still, with Steve.

There’s a yell, Bucky’s head immediately snapping up when he hears it. It’s a group of kids playing with a ball, nothing to be alarmed about. Bucky releases his hands immediately balled up at his sides, exhaling slowly.

Tony talks to Steve for a while, introducing him to a number of people Bucky’s never seen before. He thinks he sees the hooded man for a moment, but he’s gone again, and Bucky feels a strange sense of panic twist in his gut.

He takes in a deep breath. Tony keeps talking, laughing at something Steve says, clasping his shoulder. His entire body feels like it’s on high alert, tracking and trying to keep up with whatever it is that’s sitting so uneasy with him. He exhales, keeping his gaze focused, not saying anything.

But when Bucky sees the hooded man again, he stops. Steve’s a few feet ahead of him, but Bucky stays planted, seeing his hands now reaching for something.

Bucky yells, “Get down!”

Everyone moves fast, Bucky has to work to keep his energy focused on the hooded man. He’s got a skull tattoo on his hand, now in plain sight where he pulls out his gun. Bucky doesn’t think twice, moves to take him down before he has a chance to even think about pulling the trigger.

Move quick, don’t let him near Steve, keep everyone out of harm’s way. Bucky feels the adrenaline pumping through him, his entire body feeling hot as he reaches for him.

Hooded man is fast, dodging Bucky’s hand easily. Bucky swears under his breath, watching him advance toward the group Steve’s in. Before he can take another step, Bucky jumps on his back - wrapping both his arms around his neck tightly. 

The man yells, throwing Bucky off of him and onto the ground. Everyone around them has scattered, watching in complete terror.

He’s still got the gun in his hand, and Bucky doesn’t even hear it go off at first. He barely registers the pain his chest, seeing Thor take the man down. Bucky slumps to the ground, his hand red when he pulls it away from his chest, coughing violently. It’s so fucking _red_.

“Oh my God.” It’s Clint; he sounds so far away. 

Then Sam, “There’s - blood, there’s a lot of blood, shit.”

Bucky’s vision is blurring, feeling a hand on his arm. It isn’t Clint touching him, he knows this touch anywhere. 

“Bucky, Bucky - can you hear me?” Steve’s talking to him.

“Call an ambulance, right now, right fucking - now -” Tony’s talking, kneeling beside Steve, though Bucky can barely make him out.

Steve’s hands are on his face. They’re warm, and urgent. Bucky’s trying to breathe, his eyes getting heavy. His entire mind feels foggy, not able to finish one thought all the way through. All he can feel is pain, everything else is secondary. 

“Bucky, come back to me, hey. I’m here, come back to me.” Steve’s voice is shaking. 

Bucky tries to focus on him, but the pain in his chest is too much, not even hearing the sirens. All he knows is Steve’s voice is in his ear before it all goes dark.

**Author's Note:**

> if you wanna come say hey i have a blog type thing [here](http://nialljames.tumblr.com/)!


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